Or, How to Spend Your Last Day of Vacation
Imagine you got a stocking stuffer. Yay! Happy happy!
Presents are one of my favorite things.
Seriously people, take notes.
In the stocking, you find a little test tube with a tag on it that says “Cat Torturing Device.”
You laugh. Ha! say you, being the nitwit you sometimes are.
In the little package is a robot “bug.” It’s just a little electronic gizmo that skitters around the floor. It bounces off obstacles and changes course.
Here is a picture.
And on the last day of your vacation, as you and your husband spend just a couple of hours alone relaxing before launching into the Wonder-fest that is sure to be 2011, you decide to turn the bug on and put it on the floor to
torture the cats entertain yourself.
You, in your truly monumental idiocy, put this on the kitchen floor. You laugh as the cats chase the two bugs around. (Did I mention there were two? This is how much your mother loves you.) They are clearly disturbed but also highly amusing.
You know that the bug doesn’t fit under the fridge, so you just watch – you bloody moron – as the bug bounces around and the cat whaps at it.
And since you are neck-and-neck with your average tuft of dryer lint for brains, you do not have the foresight to consider that the cat – the cat who put clawmarks in the finish of your car, for god’s sake – might be strong enough to bat the bug under the refrigerator.
Cause he does. He so does.
You worthless waste of molecules.
Now the little oscillating electronic gizmo is trapped under the refrigerator. And without the Incredible Hulk Cat under there to bat it back out, that’s just where it’s going to goddamn stay, isn’t it? You can hear it buzzing and clattering against the…whatever the hell is on the underside of a refrigerator…like an angry little criminal shouting for a lawyer and a pack of cigarettes.
Not to worry, says the husband who returns to the kitchen with a dowel to scoot the hostile little microvibrator out from under the nether-regions of the Kenmore side-by-side.
And now the buzzing sound has become muffled, more remote.
What the frak?
Note: This is one of those posts where I would like to swear on my blog. This is one of those posts where this previous decision to generally avoid words of the four letter variety – which liberally punctuate my spoken language, let’s be clear – is FRIGGING HAMPERING MY EXPRESSION. Because there is NO TIME ON THE BLASTED PLANET where you would like to swear more than when you have just JAMMED A VIBRATING TOY UP YOUR REFRIGERATOR’S ARSE.
But I made the decision, I now have to live with it.
At this point you – in your dazzling display of ineptitude – have no choice but to actually tilt the refrigerator back in order to try to retrieve the bug.
But with only two adults in the house there is really only so far backwards a full-sized appliance can be tilted before you are simply this year’s best contender for the Darwin Awards. (But since you’ve already had three kids between the two of you – although how the hell you ever managed to insert tab A into slot B is by now a full-fledged mystery -you technically wouldn’t qualify.)
Once the fridge is tilted backwards the five inches you can manage without risking your life and your hardwood floors, you realize that the wee buzzing electronic insect has been shoved over a small access panel by the dowel sweepage.
There is no way you are ever, EVER getting that thing out of there.
And so it is going to stay there, buzzing, clinking in hypered frenzy against the metal underworkings of the refrigerator until its batteries die.
You great shuffling heap of imbecility.
There is only one thing to do in this situation.
Crack open a bottle of wine and turn the volume up on the television.
Oooh…A “Closer” marathon. Score!