Irene was exhausted today.

What? Dreams? No, don't be silly. Some ridiculous dream wouldn't have kept her awake all night.

But a stubbornly chirping smoke alarm, on the other hand? One that she not only took down but disassembled, and it continued to make noise until she threw it into the downstairs bin, and even then, she could hear it through the floor?

The offensive alarm had been banished to a further trash bin upon daylight -- with another one about to replace it, fear not, firefighters -- and Irene was getting the most out of that spendy Korean under-eye cream she favored, today.

[inspired by real life vacation house problems, and open!]