Basement Siren Blasts
12:30 PM: While organizing my plumbing supplies into these storage boxes that I bought during yesterday’s shopping trip, I came across this very loud and old industrial siren (yes, a siren) that I’d purchased on eBay a few years back. Why, you may wonder, would I buy a siren? Well, if you don’t use it much, it’s a real blast when you do (no pun intended). I used to scare [Emmy] with it, when I’d blow the thing in the dead quiet of a late evening, and now occasionally, I threaten to take it to her building and set it off in those “echoey” halls.
You know, in a boyish way, such instigation would be awesome, though I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of it. So, no, I’d never really do it. I wouldn’t want to cause a heart attack. But periodically threatening to do it, gets [Emmy] fired up. Indeed, the fact that I have the siren at all, lends credibility to my playful threats, and [Emmy] takes me seriously, amusingly, whenever I tease her about it. Sadistic, I know. But this infrequent but potent fun makes all the hardships of owning it worthwhile; finding space for it every time I reorganize the cellar. Having it in this case, even if I never use it, makes it still, a useful tool to keep around.
Anyway, I thought I’d blow the dust out of it just now and so, went to the north east corner of the basement, which is right underneath Mom’s sitting room. There, I let it rip for perhaps three to five seconds. That whale-turned-scream got her attention alright; she wanted to know what it was. So I took it upstairs to show her, and plugged it in again for another loud spurt. Once its scream died, she struggled to explain to someone with whom she was talking on the phone, why I’d have such a thing. She didn’t know, and I just chuckled, saying that I have it precisely for times like this, when I can scare the heebeegeebees out of someone now and again.
So now, I’ll avoid using it for another three years, in order to recharge its shock value. And then? Look out, anyone nearby. 
Take care.