Tonight, I did not have much to write about, so I set about looking for random socks sitting here and there around the house for the “Where in the World are ______’s Socks?” series.  No luck.  Humph.  Lousy night to decide to get tidy, kids.

Discouraged, I set about making dinner.  I thought I was doing well, but unfortunately our hyper-vigilant smoke alarm begged to differ.

After calming down the house, I waved the “smoke” (more like a fine cooking mist) away from the smoke detector and returned to making dinner.

Sure enough, the alarm went off again.  Alright, smoke alarm.  I know that dinner is not all that great, but it is not burning.  I promise.  Waving the smoke away, I returned again to the kitchen.

For a third time, the alarm went off.  Argh.  Now, it is just being mean spirited.  Not safety conscious, just grumpy and hurtful.

Returning to the kitchen I opened a window to the January night.  Some nights you cannot find abandoned socks to save your life, even while your smoke alarm goes out of its way to save yours.

[Note the timeline in this post is a bit off from reality, but trust me, all of the events did happen, just not in this sequence.  Taking liberty with such details made for a much better story.  Please, give me a break.  I did not even have leftover socks to work with tonight.]