Saturday, October 17, 2009

The Children Are Trying to Kill Me.

Today, in an energetic burst of haus-frau motivation, and because I had some extra time, I shampooed the living room rug and washed the kitchen floor. The extra time is due to the fact that the workload for the class I'm in this session is considerably lighter than the previous two, and I did a lot of my papers on weekend mornings. Also, I went down to Green Dragon on Friday because I was off work and got all the stuff I normally get over at the Big M on Saturday mornings so I had nowhere to go.

I was really on a roll; I moved the furniture and vacuumed and shampooed the carpet one section at a time, stopping to switch loads of laundry all the while. I moved all the chairs out of the kitchen, took all the throw rugs outside to air, and moved around the kitchen with a bottle of Orange Death or whatever that cleaner is called, spraying the most noxious spots.

When one sprays the linoleum with Orange Death, the linoleum becomes slippery. If one is not careful, one's feet might go out from under oneself, and one might end up flat on one's back.

This is exactly what happened to me; my feet went out from under me, my head went backward and hit the solid wood microwave cabinet and my foot hit the corner of the butcher block. I literally saw stars and little blue tweeting cartoon birds.

Now, I'm smaller that I used to be, but substantial enough to make a great big WHUMP! when I hit the floor. The children, who were cackling at 'Mr. Bean' in the other room, continued doing just that. Udo, bless his little cotton socks, did say "What was that noise?" But then Mr. Bean did something high-larious and he forgot to come and check.

I sat on the wet floor, holding my head and watching the blood run out of the gash on my foot. For a moment or two, I thought I might lose consciousness and I was racking my rattled brains trying to remember the symptoms of concussion. All I could think of was the episode of 'Happy Days' where Fonzie had a concussion and Potsie, Ralph and Richie had to make him stay awake so he wouldn't die. I surmised that at the very least, I needed to stay awake so I tried really hard not to pass out.

Neither one of the children came in to see what the matter was. I'm reasonably sure that they were aware that I had fallen, but they somehow know that we just upped the life insurance policies and they were biding their time to see if my little wet-linoleum mishap might prove to be lucrative for them. Also, as far as parents go I'm evidently the meaner of the two. I imagine that the older child said to the younger, "Just pretend you don't know that Mommy's dying the in the kitchen. With her out of the way, we'll be eating frozen pizzas every night for dinner for the REST of our LIVES!!"

1 comment:

  1. I somewhat resent the implication, that I would feed the boys frozen pizza every night...We'd minlge it up with some McDonalds, Wendys and chinese take out....sheesh!!