Wednesday, July 11, 2007

C.C.S.I. (Closet Crime Scene Investigation)

The Vic

The Accomplice

There's a reason the serious, crazy cleaning only comes over me once a month. It's not because my mother was a terrible housekeeper (she was a firm believer in paper cups, plates, napkins and pretty much anything else that could be used and disposed of - the environment be damned, Maureen was NOT washing dishes!). It's not because I'm easily distracted and tend to disrobe as I walk in the door leaving a trail of whatever, where ever. It's because it's DANGEROUS!

Cleaning around the house (or apartment) is a battle-ground. When your supposedly inanimate objects start coming after you, looking for blood, you know that Pat Benatar was dead wrong. Love is not a battlefield (Love Hurts, but it's not a battlefield). Cleaning - THAT'S the battlefield.

This morning I wanted to vacuum before I ran out to do the laundry. Just one room, just a quickie. But I tend to get carried away. With most everything. Moderation is not my strong suit. Never was. Never will be. So I headed from the newly vacuumed and pet hair free (for the next 5 minutes anyway) bedroom into the hallway. I even thought I'd get the kitchen done and why not venture onward and hit the living room again for good measure!

The Witness

The hallway closet has sliding doors. They sit above the floor so the pet hair hides right inside the closet doors. No big. I slide them open, run the vacuum over the inch or so of space that is actually floor (there's a lot of stuff in that closet) and it's all sparkly and hairless again. Usually.

Today as I happily entered into the breach, all empowered and Martha Stewarty, I slid open the closet door and the satisfying feeling of seeing the wood floor instead of a carpet of white dog and cat hair was replaced by a horrible, intense pain in the back of my head.

THIS, encouraged by its cronies in the closet, decided the time was ripe to give me a concussion.

The Perp

I keep it here. In front of the spray starch. (I do not want even one single crack about the fact that I use Niagara Spray Starch. Not one. I know it's tempting but control yourself!)

The Scene

Not once in the 16 years I've lived in this apartment has it ever 'fallen' off the shelf, much less propelled itself with venom at the back of my head. You cannot trust these things - they wait. Oh they wait.

I swear it felt like a brick hit me. Of course the iron may actually weigh more than a common brick. Plus it has that handy sharp point at the top. Nice.

After the initial shock of being attacked by the iron all I could think as I held my throbbing head was: OH NO!! Not NOW! I'm going to Mexico next week!

Currently my apartment is in shambles. It looks worse now than when I started cleaning because as I said, moderation: not so much. I have pulled out all sorts of things that were safely stored out of sight, fully intending to get them OUT of here before I leave next week. Clean slate and all that. So here I am, a searing pain in my head, fearing hours upon hours in the emergency room waiting for a CAT scan to see if I have brain damage that will require surgery (note the drama), worrying about how I'm going to get this place looking habitable by Tuesday.

Everyone thinks this way, right? Right?! Oh all right: I think this way.

When the pain started to subside I was pretty sure I was not going to need to go to the hospital. (Quick: someone ask me what day it is!) But I had another fright when I took the pressure off the wound (see, drama again) and saw the blood all over my hands! YIPES! I am sparing you pictures of the blood because I don't want to be responsible for people passing out. A 20 minute set with an icepack seems to have cleared it all up, though I definitely have a lump. Which I suppose means I won't be shaving my head any time soon. Nothing worse than a lumpy bald head, right?

So here I am, amidst the wild disarray of my apartment, surrounded by appliances that are out to get me, a dog who just watches it happen (yeah, good dog) a big ouchie lump on the back of my head and I STILL have to go do laundry.

Ah well, the day is young.

14 comments:

Jay said...

You so totally rock!
You know that , right?
This post was great and I laughed a lot!

Joy said...

awwww, shucks, Miss Jay thank you!
I know YOU would have liked a picture of my big lump... but not everyone is as brave as you! :)

I hope you're having a great birthday week!!!

Junk Thief said...

Man, you don't want to hear the ironing accidents I've had in my lifetime. Fortunately none have involved flesh burns but some sad, sad stories. I've also learned that I will never again iron while under the influence. BAD idea.

What's Basil's email address? I want his side of the story.

Joy said...

Because Basil did not bat an eye when this all went down (so to speak) I don't think you'd get much out of him story-wise... that is unless there was a cookie involved.

Bella said...

I hope your head starts to feel better soon and that the bump goes away quickly.

This post was hilarious, and that alone tells me that you're just fine. No need for brain surgery!

Be careful when you do the laundry -- we wouldn't want any freak dryer accidents.

Joy said...

Bella, I did manage to do the laundry unscathed. However, after that I went to buy salad and got caught in a torrential rain storm, no umbrella, blocks from home... maybe today just wasn't my day?

marxsny said...

Funny stuff Joy. You have illustrated exactly why I don't spend alot of time cleaning. Perhaps I could loan my cleaning person out to you? He doesn't read your blog does he?

Joy said...

If your cleaning person got a hold of this place I know for a fact I'd be out at least one very sentimentally important chair, possibly a couple of objets d'art, and the dog, cat and I would all be passed out from the smell of bleach. But thanks for the thought!

(I do think he stops in here from time to time... shhhhhh!!!)

Gary said...

Oh honey now that I know you are okay I am LAUGHING. This is a funny, funny post my friend. What was Nick doing during all of this?

I have two (other) comments to make...

You use (The) Niagara(s) Spray Startch! Do you also use Whaley laundry detergent and Wrong Way Up dish soap?

And your comment about the cleaning person is a gem. You called that one. You are on a roll today. Maybe you should clean more often... M'Kay?

Joy said...

They make Wrong Way Up dish soap?!!!

(Wise Ass)

Happily Anonymous said...

Well now I have a sudden fear of irons...so thanks for that anyway.

Joy said...

H.A. - If I have saved just one person from the threat of home appliance assassination, it's all worthwhile. We must be ever vigilent. (Keep an eye on the toaster oven as well... I have a bad feeling about those things!)

whimsicalnbrainpan said...

LMFAO!!!

I so missed reading your blog!

I am so sorry that you got hurt but that was damn funny. I'd also like to thank you for giving me another excuse not to clean my apartment.

Joy said...

I'm here for you Whim. And for all the other domestically-non-inclined! :)