nerves.

I just had a heart attack.

They are testing the sprinklers in the building today (as they are wont to do every week-or-so here). I was planning a simple morning of laundry and a shower, before I head out to run errands.

I was standing in the laundry room, naked, sorting, when they apparently decided to test the fire alarms, too.

Two problems: first, I was naked, and being surrounded by clothes would have been great, except that they were all dirty, and I wasn't about to evacuate (my natural response to hearing the fire alarm) in dirty boxers and yesterday's running bra. Second, the fire alarm features the loudest and most ear-piercing buzz-screech combination you can imagine. In this apartment, the sound happens to be based about six feet up the laundry room wall. Coincidentally, my ear happened to be located about six feet up my naked laundry sorting body.

That first alarm, thankfully, turned out to be just a short blip. I'm guessing that's an indication that I'm not about to be burned alive. I feel safe because the one time that we really did have to evacuate, that godforsaken alarm rang for about twenty minutes straight, and then some fire trucks came.

I am thinking that it's probably best to wait until the alarms cease to start the laundry and jump in the shower (so I've put my robe back on, you'll be glad to hear), because the sign downstairs about the sprinkler testing did say something specific about discolored water, which also happens to be one of my greatest shower fears (along with water bugs, black mold, and being suddenly and violently wrapped and smothered by the shower curtain).

Now they are just sounding the alarm for about a second every minute or so. I can hear the collective jump of my fellow tenants. On second thought, that might be the collective jump of my internal organs.

Is there anything quite like a) starting your day with carefully timed jerks of panic, and b) eventually desensitizing yourself to the sound of the fire alarm?