Then sal called, alerting me that she was back in town. We busted over to Kazansky's. Ah, white cheddar on hot dogs is so good.
Just after I got home there was this crazy buzzing noise in the house and I totally freaked out because I couldn't figure out where it was coming from, and my paranoid instincts suggested that of course it was a smoke and/or carbon monoxide alarm or something and the house was either burning down or going to invisibly suffocate me. So I called sally back, and my suspicion that a second opinion would be helpful was vindicated in spades.
It was the fucking doorbell. The doorbell that we do not actually have, which is to say we have no button by the door, was going off like mad in a little box by the floor, and god knows when it started doing that. The little box was quite warm. I guess something finally shorted out. I turned off the breaker that made it stop, and sally took it apart and smartly taped apart a couple of the stray wires so nobody would brush past them and short them out again, or, like electrocute themselves. So... that's that. Freakin' out over a doorbell. Poster child of mental stability, that's-a me.