I had a kind of traumatic night.
Phoenix had a tooth that was hanging on by a thread and he wouldn't let me pull it out. So I had to sit on him to pin his arms down and yank it out with my fingers. He screamed so loud! I was very surprised that the police or social services didn't show up at my door. If we lived in a better neighborhood perhaps they would have.
After they went to bed I went to work, which, for once, started out pleasant. I should have known that something was brewing. When work seems too easy it usually means it's going to get worse eventually.
I carried the vacuum up the stairs, for obvious reasons, and noticed a trail of dirt and gravel, which is forever in that damned building, leading up the stairs I had just climbed. I knew something was wrong with the machine so I took it apart.
It shouldn't have been so hard to find an X screwdriver in a building full of tools but I really couldn't find a single one, not even a flat head. I had to improvise. I used Amoo's letter opener as a screwdriver, sorry Mom, to take the hose off and check if it was clogged. It wasn't clogged but everything I had sucked up the last time I had used the vacuum came flying out onto the carpet. It came out as a big cloud and POOF! I had to dust everything in the room and sweep the tiled area to the right. I took the bottom half of the stupid cleaner apart and didn't find any clogs either, just more dirt and gravel. I even smacked the filters on the inside to make sure air could pas through them. I put everything back together and swept up what I could. Unfortunately the dirt that came out of the hose had a very orange tint and it looked like I went through that office tossing dried clay dust over my shoulder, which wasn't too far from the truth. I tried the stupid vacuum again, thinking that after cleaning it out it would work again, but the damned thing wouldn't suck!
In a last ditch effort I went into the owner's bathroom and took his mini shop-vac. When it turned on I let out a shout of joy. That man will never throw anything away even if it doesn't work. He has office equipment that could probably be sold as antiques.
The hose had an upholstery attachment but it was only about four inches wide. So it took me two hours to vacuum that damned place. Who knows how old the filter was on that thing? I have used shop-vacs before and normally they have an astonishing amount of power. Maybe this was the first one ever made or perhaps the filter needed changing, but it just wouldn't pick up all the filth on the floor.
When I had gone over the same spots several times and they weren't getting any better, and when my back wouldn't stop cramping from being on my knees for so long, I gave up.
I waxed the floor in Amoo's office, took out the trash and got out of there before I could fuck anything else up.
Normally it only takes about three hours for me to do my job, that's even if I'm stripping and waxing the floors. Last night I got to work at 8:25 pm and I didn't lock up until 1 am.
When I got home I immediately striped off my filthy clothes and showered. All I wanted was my bed and I plopped down with a great sigh of relief, only to shoot strait back up and out with a barely controlled shriek of surprise.
My damned cats knocked my glass of water off the head of my bed while I was getting cleaned up, of course a full one, and soaked everything. I stripped the bed and had to sleep with and unfitted sheet beneath me and one of the boys' fuzzy blankets. (you know, the ones that aren't long enough for adults)
After I got settled in my newly dried bed I started reading Twilight. Everybody knows I can't sleep without reading something no matter how sleepy I am.
As usual I got engrossed and didn't put it down until around 3 am. As soon as I felt myself drifting off I realized I had forgotten to bring home the money for Phoenix's tooth from Amoo's work. Damn me! No, damn the vacuum cleaner and it's refusal to suck!
I had to give him a fully silver half-dollar that I've had since before he was born. I have a collection of coins like that and it pained me greatly to give it to him, he's not supposed to get it until I die. Well, he and Kale each get half.
Does it make me a bad mother to want to switch the money when he goes to the dollar store to spend it? That coin is probably worth about $50, not 50 cents.
So that was my night. Everything I touched turned brown and runny...
Oh well, at least it makes me appreciate the easy days.