I came home early today to let the alarm repair team in. The team consisted of two men, one perhaps in his 40s, the other much older who wore gym socks with flip-flops. They looked...Malaysian perhaps? They both left their shoes on the threshold--the younger man was wearing those athletic slides popular with soccer players (with socks, of course). The younger one did all the talking. He called me ma'am and asked if the cat was pregnant. "No, she's just chubby." (But she isn't, really.)
They futzed around with the panel for about an hour, setting it off three times for testing purposes. The younger man also sang and hummed periodically, at one point breaking into what I could swear was the theme from Love Story.
The conclusion was that the panel that houses the alarm was broken. They didn't have the parts to replace the panel so they'll be calling me to make another appointment. Sigh. Luckily, these guys seem to know what they're doing. And they don't even track dirt into the house. What more could you ask? They also arrived promptly at 2:00pm.
I'm sticking around home for the rest of the afternoon doing reading for work. I have some great stories all typed up, but I left the little flash memory stick where I saved everything in the office, so you'll have to make do with this and I'll have to do more work.
Grateful for: musical repairmen.