you hear a noise coming from somewhere in the apartment in the middle of the night and your first thought is, "which one of the toys is yapping now?"
My second thought was, "hey, this is like that alternate version of Spiderman where Aunt May is killed by the burglars instead of Uncle Ben (or whateverthehell his name is)."
I turned off the fan so I could hear the sound more clearly--I wasn't going to just blunder out of the bedroom unless I was sure it was electronic in nature. The first suspect was HA's talking Dalek lunchbox, but it didn't sound like, "Exterminate!" I stopped to listen before opening the door and it sounded like "Boba Fett" over and over again.
So I thought, "what the hell does he own that says, 'Boba Fett'?" because I'm well aware of my inventory of Star Wars toys and although they include a Boba Fett pez dispenser, they do not include anything that speaks his name, not even the Yoda Furbie that has been without batteries since the thing refused to go into sleep mode and instead chastised me about how disrespectful it is to turn a Jedi Master upside down.
Thus, I bravely stepped forth to confront the electronic beast, whatever and wherever it may be, to discover that the g-d answering machine was saying "No messages" over and over and over again. I had pressed the button to listen to a message around 9 pm and it had stuck. Only the damn thing waited until 4:30 in the morning to start acting like its button was stuck.
Since HA brought this item into the marriage, I blame him entirely. That I didn't wake him up to yell at him about replacing the effing thing at 4:30 in the morning shows that I'm growing as a person, because he really did kinda deserve it. Plus, he only lost about 10 minutes of sleep, where it took me about an hour to go back to sleep. That I am not currently plotting revenge shows that I'm too freaking tired. Though I have demanded the purchase of a new answering machine and may hold his talking Dalek lunchbox hostage if that doesn't happen soon.