The Aerodynamics of a Vacuum Cleaner

12 08 2009

strawberryIt was just a strawberry.  Nothing big, like a watermelon.  Nothing tiny, like a garlic clove.  Nothing hard, like a coconut.  By all accounts, it should have been easy enough to cut.

So I still don’t quite understand how my son ended up with six stitches on his thumb from a strawberry slicing session gone bad.  But such is the way of life.

The last time a family member had such a serious gash, I was the one who was subject to puzzled expressions and furrowed brows.  And the weapon of the day was not a knife, but a Hoover…..


“And why are you here today?” the receptionist asked me.

“I have a cut on my head,” I replied.

“We’ll get you in next to take a quick look at it,” she said.

Almost immediately, the nurse was peering through my hair, looking for the laceration.  “Just follow the dried blood,” I thought.  She found it, and said the doctor would have to decide whether to put in stitches or staples.  “And how did this happen?” she queried.

pink-dyson-dc07-vacuum-cleaner“I got hit in the head with a vacuum cleaner.”  Blank stare from her.  “Well, the sweeper was on the stair landing and I was sitting on a stair below it.  I was using the hose and the attachments. I guess I wasn’t really paying close attention, because out of the blue the entire vacuum cleaner was airborne and some piece of it suddenly hit me on the head.  I was stunned and it hurt A LOT, so I decided the stairs were going to stay as they were.  I rested a minute to collect myself, noticed a drop of blood on my hand, then investigated and found a bit more on the stair, but nothing serious.  So I took a shower, washing my hair rather gingerly.  And then I hauled the vacuum upstairs and swept up there.”

“Then I was off to volunteer at the College Career Center at the high school.  But on the way a felt dried blood in my hair and wondered if there was more going on than I had imagined.  One of my co-volunteers, a physical therapist, checked me out and suggested we visit the school nurse.  Who checked me out and thought a visit to an emergency care clinic might be in order.  At which time my other co-volunteer, a physician, arrived, and concurred.”

After all was said and done, I ended up getting staples in my head.  And weird looks from people who asked what had happened.  The emergency care physician said I needed a better story.  I think that, instead of believing my vacuum cleaner chronicle, he believed my brain was a vacuum.



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