Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Clueless, toothless, and bagless is no way to go through life.

On my 16th birthday, I vacuumed my face.

Fifteen years later, vacuuming remains the household chore most threatening to my personal safety.

It would be simple enough to chalk the 1994 incident up to a freak accident. Girl grabs Dirt Devil hand vac to clean stairs. Girl fails to tie back super-long locks. Girl's locks get wound up in aforementioned Dirt Devil, causing forehead welt at point of impact and eventual black eye. Girl attends high school and endures resultant mockery/questioning. Girl eternally remembered for vacuuming up own hair on Sweet 16. Girl at least has excellent story for rest of life.

But girl, if we can still use that term, could not leave it at that.

You see, it was a few weeks ago that I found myself once again vacuuming -- this time with a Panasonic upright and an actual floor. It was in the same room where I had once ripped off half my toenail vacuuming when I stupidly tried to slide a heavy ottoman across the floor without wearing shoes. (No "Dancing with Tom DeLay" appearance for me.) Same room, same vacuum. Same girl, of course.

Different ottoman.

Our new ottoman is much lighter than the old one. It's so light, in fact, that I can just pick it up quickly, turn it upside down, and rest it on the couch to create an easy vacuuming path. In fact, that's precisely what I was trying to do when...

I clobbered myself in the face with an ottoman leg.

I'm not sure what happened, though I had just gotten done lifting weights when this incident occurred. Perhaps I did not know my own pumped-up arm strength or had lost some of my small muscle control. What I do know is that I hoisted the object with such force that I nearly knocked loose one of my remaining teeth and seriously suspected for a moment that I had cut my lower lip. My husband just happened to call within seconds after this incident occurred.

"Hey," he said. "Just wanted to let you know I was on my way home."

"Okay, great," I replied, gently patting at my lower lip. "I, um...you're not going to believe this. I just hit myself in the face with an ottoman. Really hard. It hurts."

"You did WHAT? How on earth..."

"Well, I was vacuuming..."

And that's all I needed to say.

Some people have nagging mountain-climbing injuries. Others hurt themselves playing sports. Not many people can find creative ways of hurting themselves like I can. Perhaps I need a vacuuming injury awareness bracelet to go with my hard hat and hockey mask.

Or maybe I'll never learn.

1 comment:

Kara Dalmacio said...

Or your husband can take over the vacuuming duties... =)