The maddening tyranny of beeps in the night

On a recent night at about 10, my husband and I are in the den downstairs in our Westbury home, watching the Mets lose, when we hear the first beep.

Bernie looks at me and we both think, not again! There goes the rest of the game. How long will it take to find the source of the noise? Is it the TV or the smoke detectors? We wait for another beep.

10:15 p.m.: Beep!

Is it a smoke detector? We have two, one downstairs and one upstairs. It sounds loud, maybe in the den. We set up a stepstool under the alarm in the hall and go upstairs to the kitchen to get new 9-volt battery. With my husband steadying the stool, I replace the battery in the alarm.

10:30 p.m.: Beep!

It's not the downstairs alarm. I go upstairs, climb on a chair and replace the battery in that alarm. I check the carbon monoxide detector. The back says, "multiple beeps," not just one. So I know this isn't the cause. (The first carbon monoxide detector we had saved our lives. I won't live without one.)

10:45 p.m.: Beep!

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I climb the stepstool and remove the new battery from alarm No. 1 downstairs.

11 p.m.: Beep!

Not No. 1. I replace the battery from the den alarm. I remove the battery from No. 2 upstairs.

11:15 p.m.: Beep!

Not No. 2. I put a battery back in.

11:30 p.m.: Beep!

It's not my cellphone either, which beeps when it's low. It's fully charged.

11:45 p.m.: Beep!

What could it possibly be? We don't have a computer, iPad or any of the other gadgets you can Tweet on. We're getting frantic. We won't sleep waiting for a beep every 15 minutes.

If we hear a beep at midnight, we'll have to call our daughter and son-in-law. It will scare the bejeebers out of them, but we have no choice. Maybe they can think of something else that beeps.

Midnight: Beep!

Oh @#$%! I get up to call Debbie and Greg and see, for the first time, a red light on a grey telephone company box. It's in the corner and dimly lit. I turn on a lamp, but still can't see what it says. Bernie brings a flashlight and I see the words "low battery."

I look up the company's phone number. A recorded voice says that if the red light is on and I hear beeps, I should press 1. Yes! Yes!

A recorded voice tells me that the standby battery is low, and I need to replace it so the phone will still work if we lose power. (Oh, yeah! When we lost power during Sandy, the dial tone didn't return until the lights went on four days later.)

For $43 (plus shipping, handling and taxes), the company will send us a new battery in three to eight business days and add the cost to our monthly bill. I order the new battery. I remove the old battery, but they say the device could still sound again. Problem solved.

3 a.m.: No beeps for three hours. My heart is still racing, and my stomach is churning, but I go to bed and try to calm down and sleep.

5 a.m.: Beep!

I go downstairs and press the blue "silence alarm" button on the grey telephone box. I go back to bed. I haven't slept yet.

6 a.m.: Beep!

I go downstairs to press the blue button again.

6:08 a.m.: Beep!

I'm on the staircase and can tell it's coming from upstairs. A gadget that transfers the doorbell chimes to a receiver downstairs is mounted next to smoke alarm No. 2. I forgot that there are batteries in that box. I remove those batteries. Thank heaven I don't need a chair.

6:16 a.m.: Beep!

I stand under the alarm and the chimes relay box, which are within inches of each other. I jump. It must be smoke alarm No. 2, and it can't be a faulty battery. The smoke alarm itself must be broken. I remove the battery. I wait for more beeps. Pray.

6:30 a.m.

6:50 a.m.

7:30 a.m.

I must stop looking at the clock. Who would believe that we actually had two devices in need of repair?

8 a.m.: We both fall asleep. No beeps!

5 p.m.: We go to buy a new smoke alarm, one with a built-in battery. We hear beeping as we enter Home Depot in East Meadow and ask a man in an orange apron, "What is that?"

He says, "We don't know."

You can go home, he tells us, but we're stuck here all day.