The one thing in life that is a given is that your smoke alarm will decide it wants a new battery at four in the freaking morning. As I sleepily fumbled with it in the hallway it peeped like the hugest most annoying bird ever and I nearly smashed the goddam thing with my fist, which would give felt really good for a couple seconds until it beeped again. Instead I maturely unscrewed it from the wall, gently unplugged the wiring and argued with it until I got the battery out. It beeped feebly. Fuck you, I said. Fyl said you’re arguing with an inanimate object again. Well it wouldn’t shut the fuck up, I said. You’re mother did that, she said. Talking to inanimate objects is stupid. Go back to sleep I said and went out to the living room and talked to the fish, who blooped and wriggled and stared back sympathetically.