Bent Words

Bent Words

April 13, 2006

You know you're not meant for general house cleaning duties when your vacuum bites you twice for no reason, spits OUT the fur you just picked up and suddenly falls apart mid-suck.

I was trying to change the belt in the new, old vacuum cleaner that I recently acquired when I realized that my strength does not equal that of a rubber vacuum belt. The belt snapped out of its position causing the roller end to split my finger open. Of course, I got mad which only made matters worse. This little metal, snappy thing fell out and I forgot to put it back in after I had successfully installed the new belt. I had to take the stupid thing apart, again, and that's probably about when I accidently detached the side sucker thing.

So, after I got her all back together, without realizing that I had detached the side sucker thing, I started the baby up only to have cat fur, dust and curious nail bits spat into my face.

I replaced the side sucker thing but not before the vacuum decided to pinch my pinky finger in the process.

Seriously. I was not cut out for this type of hard labor. My old vacuum never treated me like this. My old vacuum just stopped working when it didn't like me anymore. Well, it did that twice, actually.

Then, I thought that I would mop my kitchen floor since I haven't slipped over a newly waxed surface in quite a few months. I miss that. Plus, a mop isn't a mechanical cleaning utensil and thus I figured I was safe. No motors to chew off my fingers and belts to wrestle with.

So, I moved the kitchen table, chairs, kitty buffet, garbage can (you get the idea) and a plethora of other heavy objects onto my newly vacuumed carpeting. I mop, mop, mopped, got on my hands and knees and scrub, scrub, scrubbed to get those stupid new shoe marks out and then proceeded to to watch the floor dry.

The moment I turned away, my stupid cats had a sudden urge to tango on the kitchen floor. Not only were they merrily gnawing on each other's necks, but they were also flinging fur as freely as the vacuum had done only moments ago. Cat fur covered the wet floor and all I could do was watch in absolute horror.

I normally leave them in the bathroom while I'm waiting for the floor to dry. Now, I'm locking them in the bathroom, with the dreaded vacuum cleaner, just for spite. Bastards.

Of course, after I couldn't stand the sound of Mac meowing woefully at the bathroom door, I let him and his sister out. Returning to duties of replacing the kitchen table and chairs, I tripped over a chair, stubbed my toe and slipped on the waxy kitchen floor.

This baneful bit of banter brought to you by,

The person who really needs a job so she has an excuse to escape all forms of torturous housework.

Thanks for playing.

Written at 5:53 p.m.