A few days ago, on a shelf far, far away, I battled my height in an effort to obtain a rug. What I didn’t know was that an evil menace was hiding on top of it, waiting to strike.
I reached up carefully, so as not to cut off my hand’s circulation, and was excited that I was able to begin pulling it down.
And that’s when it happened: I was attacked by a Killer Roomba.
12 years earlier, when it was no longer able to detect and eat even one strand of dog hair, we’d placed The Killer Roomba on the shelf of crap we no longer need, instead of getting rid of it. Because I am vertically challenged, I didn’t see the Roomba lurking on top of the rug.
Recently, I discovered and purchased Bob, or, as he’s known by his full name, the bObsweep PetHair Robotic Vacuum. Bob is awesome.
Even after 12 years spent in hibernation mode, the Roomba must have sensed there was a new droid in town. I thought I heard Bob say, “It’s a trap!” But, realized Bob can’t speak. Or can he?
Using its last ounce of evil power, the disgruntled Killer Roomba propelled itself from the shelf of crap. With the strength of a prizefighter it smacked my right jaw, nearly knocking me out.
Immediately I felt pain in my jaw, and an odd zing traveling from my brain to my lower back causing a severe headache, and excruciating pain in my lower back.
Of course I was home alone, so the first thing I did was cry like a girl, which I am, so I’m allowed.
Then, as usual, I performed The Injury Assessment Body Scan. It’s kind of like “The Force” for non-Jedi.
Only professional, perpetual klutzes possess its ability to go deep within oneself to perform a mental x-ray, if you will, to determine if said injury requires immediate attention, can wait exactly three hours, overnight, or requires no medical attention at all. It’s a gift that comes from years of practice, and I’m a pro.
After the attack, all I wanted to do was go to sleep, but because of the zing extravaganza that had simultaneously traveled up and down my spinal cord, I thought it best to stay awake.
We were going out for dinner that night to celebrate Veronica’s birthday, and I was not going to miss it due to a Killer Roomba with a grudge.
Thankfully, the Injury Assessment Body Scan was negative. I was able to move my jaw, the headache went away with a couple of Tylenol, and a hot bath in Epsom Salts cured the back pain.
I also iced both sides of my face because, even though the right side of my face took the brunt of the hit, the left side of my jaw hurt, too. The last thing I wanted was to be out for dinner with one side of my face looking like a chipmunk storing food for the winter.
I felt fine. Until the next day, which was New Year’s Eve morning. The Injury Assessment Body Scan only works at the time of the incident. It cannot predict how one will feel the next morning, but scientists are working on it.
My face didn’t hurt (but it’s killing you, ha, ha, ha.) I could barely make it up or down the stairs, or walk without whimpering. Richard had to go to work, but before he left he emptied and loaded the dishwasher, let the dogs out and fed them, and made sure I was as comfortable as I could be. His nice behavior was more frightening than the injury.
Lucas had to leave for work, too. With Mom still at Whitehall recovering from a fall requiring hip surgery and a cast for a broken wrist, I knew I couldn’t call her if I needed help, but, I’m lucky to have a sister who would drop anything for me, and a network of the best friends a person could ask for.
But, I didn’t need to call anyone. One of the best things about having kids who have moved out but still surprise you by coming over to do laundry, is that Veronica showed up at 8:00 A.M. One of our family’s orthopedic doctors could see me, so she offered to drive me. I will let you know when the ribbon cutting ceremony takes place for the Chase/Korengold wing of their office.
Apparently, I had sprained my back in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid getting bitch-slapped by the Roomba. The doctor prescribed non-drowsy, long-acting, but slow-releasing muscle relaxers that eventually kicked in. After spending most of the day stooped over like 900 year-old Yoda, I was able to reach a full-standing position.
Because of the pain, I haven’t been able to go to yoga classes, or visit Mom at Whitehall. The most exciting thing I did this past week was spend a day polishing my nails. Yes, it took an entire day.
We had to miss a very groovy New Year’s Eve party, so we rang in 2016 by watching The Chicago Blackhawks beat the Colorado Avalanche in overtime.
The Killer Roomba’s sinister plan worked, but nearly a week later my back feels much better. The only residual issue is I keep having dreams of Ewoks dancing in my head, and nightmares of Jar Jar Binks just being Jar Jar Binks.