How do they know?

How do they know?

Inaminate objects.

If they went wrong at random, that'd be fine. But they don't...

...in a sinister fashion, they seem to have a hundred percent, unfailing ability to play up at the very worst time possible.

Take the copier (someone, please take the copier). Day after day it'll churn out printing, page after page. Two-sided? No problem. A3, two-sided? Too easy, mate. A3, two-sided, colour, multiple copies? Your word is my command.

Until:

You're in a mad, tear-arse rush to get out the door and on your way, already running late, and there's no way you can possibly turn up without those documents.

Those...documents...right there...in that paper-jam. They're the ones.

So, DLL's operation day, and she needs to be fully rested, or as fully rested as possible, because this is going to take every ounce of strength and courage she can muster.

So, the last thing we need is exactly what we get, as the upstairs landing smoke alarm decides to start an intermittent, persistent, and very loud bleeping. How does it know?

In the olden days, it would be simple. Remove the battery. Disarm the thing. Sort it out when it isn't the middle of the night, ungodly o'clock in the morning.

But it isn't the olden days, and it's a mains powered, battery backup model. It won't come apart, not until BLISS loses her temper with it and forces the issue.

To find...

...a non-rechargeable, standard battery, held in an enclosure, that does not open. All three of us take turns, standing on the chair, fiddling with the thing, while the other two, the non-chair people do the swearing, and all the time the bloody thing keeps emitting that intermittent, irregular, and very loud 'peep'.

Eventually, I make the inevitable executive decision, and nibble away at part of the plastic cage with the pliers.

Even thus released, it won't come quietly. It has to be forced past the remaining lip, and then past the raised edge of the plastic housing. The replacement battery goes through the reverse process. Or, eventually it does.

Now, there's a steady green light, with an intermittent flash of red.

No-one remembers that, so the torture's still not over, and I have to go downstairs and stand around like some sort of smoke alarm spotter watching the one in the hallway to make sure this green light / red flash thing is normal.

Obviously, just as the smoke alarm situation is resolved, it's too late to get any more sleep. Seven or eight years that smoke alarm's been there, and only made a noise when it was tested (or, if no-one else has tested it, it's never made a sound).

So. How does it know?