Last week the battery in the smoke alarm began its swan song in the middle of the night. A quick high pitch beep every other minute or so. Enough to annoy me, but spaced far enough that I could not zero on it's exact location. (Only die hard readers will remember when the smoke alarm fell from the ceiling.) Matt had placed it somewhere in the hallway and I couldn't find it in the pile of boxes and whatnots. After a quick phone call to Matt, I located the alarm, ripped out the battery and crawled back into bed. Matt called back shortly after.

Matt: You found it?
Me: a sleepy Mmhmm.
Matt: The apartment isn't on fire, is it?
Me: No.
Matt: Are you sure?
Me: Yes. I'm sure.

The next day I asked him why he felt the need to ask me if the apartment was on fire. His answer: With you, you just never know.