The Amazing Aroma Reflexes of a Former Housewife
The "cleaning lady" came to the office today, to do her magic while we tried to do ours. It's pretty irritating trying to use your desk while someone is dusting it, or talk on the phone while the floor is being vacuumed. It's even more irritating if something goes wrong with the vacuum cleaner and it start smelling like burnt rubber. It's even more more irritating when I have to stop my meeting with my boss and try to figure out what's wrong with the damn thing. What the fuck do I know about a vacuum cleaner? I haven't used one in so long that I can't even remember how long it's been.
So there we were, four of us, standing there looking at it. I swear we must have looked exactly like this picture here, titled Four Nervous Monkeys on a Dead Car, by William B. Montgomery. Then my boss and I are down on the floor, suddenly wearing new hats. Instead of trying to figure out how much silver to buy, we are now retarded small appliance repair men. women. people. whatever is PC these days. I felt like a monkey with a new object thrown in my cage. Hey, this isn't a banana! Let's poke it and see what it does.
Slowly, the nasty smell awakens vague memories of my past life as a wife.
This... happened.... once..... before. I think. Yes, something got sucked up. Hairy roller thingy stopped spinning. Rubber belt melted.
Suddenly I knew what to do but I didn't know how to do it. This machine was a stranger. I didn't know any of it's secrets yet, let alone how to get in it's pants. But, as in most puzzling situations I find myself in, with thrilling frequency I might add, I used logic. Yes.
And now, here it is.
Today I learned how to get to the internal organs of our office vacuum cleaner. And fix it.
All we had to do was unwind miles of hair. Luckily the belt was just dandy fine.
7 comments:
Vacuums are the baine of my exsistance these days. And don't critic my spelling, I have a TERRIBLE headache.
I call dibs on being the monkey on the hood.
Somebody should tell the girl with all the long hair to brush it every once in a while so not as much of it ends up on the floor... damn it.
I'd say spelling is the bane of your existence.
Or kids that give you the headaches. Or your husband.
Or your sassy sista.
All right hooka, you can have the hood if you brush your hair every once in a while so it stays off the office floor.
I realized today that perhaps that vacuum cleaner isn't fixed after all.
what's a vacuum cleaner?
"the vacuum cleaner is what the maids come and push".
You see, that's exactly why I love Lala! One of the many many reasons. Now tell that bitch she better have lunch with me tomorrow.
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