The other day I was in the kitchen, with the windows closed, yet I still heard the faint sound of a siren. I went to the front window and saw no vehicles. I returned to the kitchen – in the middle of my house - only to hear the noise again. The siren was intermittent – almost like the noise from a kid’s friction truck – you know the kind you want to step on, but don’t - only there are no kids living in Seniorville. I ignored it, assuming it came from outside of my development, and I heard it because it was abnormally loud. I finished in the kitchen, and went into my office – the one I share with Hubby. The siren sounded as I passed Hubby’s computer.
“A new warning system about email’s that might have a virus attached,” Hubby explained when he came home, “and I haven’t installed it in yours yet.”
Not sure if I want it. Flashing signs work fine for me.
The next day, I was home alone when I heard a strange man’s voice coming from somewhere in my house. Nothing was turned on – no radio – no TV – nothing. All the windows and terrace doors were closed. Still I know a human’s voice when I hear it. Was my new house haunted, and was that why we got such a good deal? I looked out all the windows only to see rabbits nibbling on my flowers. Bravely, I searched each room, with my phone in hand. ready to call 911. The voice was getting louder, but this time I could hear the siren also. I headed for my office. Along with the siren, Hubby’s computer’s robotic voice was shouting “virus alert.”
“They improved the original,” Hubby surmised. “I guess too many people didn’t realize the reason the siren was coming from the computer.”
I wondered how many complaints the anti-virus program designers will get from police because people not sitting at their computers will think there are intruders in their homes and call 911.
The next night, unexplained voices once again spooked me.
“Was that guy calling us?” Hubby asked when we passed a crowd of people in the parking lot.
“That voice was too loud,” our friends in the rear seat said, “It sounded almost as if it was in the car.”
We drove a few more feet. Then, a voice from my glove compartment called out, “Turn right in 200 feet.”
I still haven’t figured out who turned my GPS on after I returned it to the glove compartment. I would never do anything as stupid as forgetting to turn it off when I put it away.