Things are happening at an increasingly alarming rate.

Last Sunday, the fire department showed up at my apartment and asked where the fire was. "What fire?" It appears that one of the four smoke detectors (which are hard-wired and connected to the security system, not battery operated) in the apartments notified the fire dept. that there was a fire. It certainly wasn't in my apartment, nor in Thing One's (she didn't burn her tortillas until after the firemen left). Pinocchio had showed up briefly on Saturday but wasn't home, and Cookie (the downstairs neighbor who moved in last summer but I haven't had cause to blog about until now) had just left the day before for spring break.

On Tuesday, we managers were gathering for our daily meeting when Officer Krupke told Thing One and me that the fire department was over at our apartments again. (Neither of us was even there to burn any tortillas -- unless it was Thing One's dog.)

They had the security system contractor visit. They replaced the smoke detector in Thing One's apartment because it was faulty, and they did something with the wiring so that the fire department would know beforehand which apartment to head to first, rather than mine (unless, of course, the fire is in my apartment).

All was well and good until last night, when my cell phone rang less than an hour after I went to bed. It was Thing One, asking if I could turn off the security system alarm in Cookie's apartment because I know the master code. So, I went back to my nightstand to get my glasses and, naturally, knocked them to the floor. I finally found them, put on my robe (and grabbed my housekey, in a surprising moment of insight that I didn't think was capable in such a state of semi-sleep, but ended up not locking myself out anyway, which was entirely possible in such a state of semi-sleep), and headed outside. The security panel was different than mine, but I plugged in the code anyway. It didn't work. I tried it again and finally started waking up enough to wonder why I didn't see anything on the display. "Maybe it's the panel over here, where the alarm is," Cookie suggested. It was, indeed. (Belgium! That alarm, right over the panel, just at head height for me, was loud!)

The whole reason this happened was Skippy's fault. When the security company worked on the smoke detectors, he accompanied them and set the apartment alarms on his way out. Cookie had never used her alarm, so she had no idea what to do when it started beeping at her when she got home from vacation. Why didn't she ever use her alarm? Because she never was given a security code and instructions how to use it (nor had Thing One, until she asked Skippy directly) when she moved in. Skippy demonstrated the system and gave me the master code when I moved in, so how did he (and everyone else) forget to do so with the two newest residents?

Moreover, who the heck leaves an inoperative security panel right by the front door and installs a new one at the other end of the living room, next to the kitchen? Oh yeah, because it was quicker and cheaper to do it that way! (I will never get used to the way they do things here.) I wonder if that explains why my security system still works, even though the window sensors, which were taken down when the windows were replaced, haven't been put back up yet. I also wonder, then, if Officer Krupke will forget (he probably has done so already) that the sensors are apart, which leaves the portions with the wires leading back to the window frames taped to the walls above my windows, which does not contribute to the air of compently decoratedness I've been trying to establish in this dump.

Which reminds me... At a thrift store with Thing One this weekend, I saw a ceramic plaque which read, "God bless this lousy apartment." I wanted to buy it, but Thing One said she could make me a nicer one in counted cross stitch.