My mother doesn't know about my blog and if she did she doesn't have internet connection at her house. Just not a techno savvy person. However I was thinking over this weekend and what good is it to laugh at someone else if you can't laugh at yourself. So in this spirit, I give you the following story.
When hubby and I were first married we were very monetarily challenged. We had bought our first house, a tiny little one bedroom house that looked like it could have been made of gingerbread.
I had taken a job babysitting for a friend's son during the day so I could be at home with our daughter who was only a few months old. The boy was about 4 at the time and we would play all kinds of games and entertain each other throughout the day. He even on occasion helped out with the house work.
One day when he was helping with the vacuuming, I remembered what my Mother in law had told me about cleaning the coils under the fridge. She had told me if I vacuumed the coils it would reduce the energy bill. I figured it didn't hurt to try as we could use every penny pinched. I pulled the hose off the upright, bent over and started cleaning. The little boy, being the good little helper that he was, pushed the upright a little closer so I would have enough hose to reach.
The phone rings, I reach around and switch off the vacuum and as I go to stand up the vacuum falls over, the roller brush stuck in the back of my hair. Turns out that when he moved it closer to me the brush of the vacuum was still rolling, and my hair that was quite long got sucked right in. I am quite upset as I am now a Siamese twin to a vacuum cleaner with no means of separation. I finally answer the phone in tears.
My husband was on the line demanding to know what was wrong with me and in between my sobbing and trying to tell him what happened, he decides he had better come home. The little guy had grown quite concerned and I laugh for him when he asks "Are you stucked?"
A short while later, still not able to get the evil thing out of my hair, I hear a knock at the door. It's the little old lady that lived two doors down. She knows I am home but I am not keen to open the door in my state. I go to the door, the vacuum hanging from my head and open the door a tiny tinny sliver to see what she wants.
"Honey, are you OK?" she asks.
"Yes I fine. Did you need something?"
"Well...uh..your husband. A lady came over and hit his truck head on."
"Is he OK?" I forget about my little problem for second and start looking up and down the road my stomach in knots.
"Oh yes, he is fine. The EMS are checking him out. The wreck was right before our house. He keeps telling the police that he has to get to his wife that somethings wrong. I told him I would come check on you."
I fully open the door in a new state of tears and show her the vacuum hanging from my hair. She in turn goes to get her husband to see if he has any tools to get me loose. They were a great old couple and I'm sure they had one hell of a laugh when they got home, but for the time it took to get me loose they never cracked a smile. They were even so kind to watch over the two children while I ran down the road to see for myself that my hubby was OK. He was fine, though I was feeling incredibly guilty.