moki
el Presidente
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2003
- Messages
- 9,415
How I spent my Saturday evening
This Saturday evening was not spent watching a movie with my wife. Nor was it spent enjoying a fine cigar, or having a glass of wine. No, my evening did not involve any of these pleasantries; instead, it consisted of a rather strange situation that was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events.
I was standing in my kitchen in my underwear, with a washcloth, toothbrush, and a foul odor swirling about me like Pigpen of Peanuts fame. My dog Aya was staring at me with a quizzical look in her eye... and not the slightest hint of guilt on her countenance. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started several months ago, when I decide that with my wife pregnant, and the dogs constantly doing their best to turn our house into a mud pit, we could use some cleaning help. Being the gadget-head that I am, I decided to pick up some of those Roomba automatic cleaning "robots".
Life with the Roomba was quite pleasant for the first few months we used it. We set the Roomba to kick in at 3:00am every morning, it would go about its cleaning duties, and then return home to charge when it was done. We would then empty the container the next morning, and I congratulated myself on my ingenuity... until "the day".
The day came as innocently as most do; and it almost went without incident as well. I was sitting on the couch engaged in my evening routine of watching TV and doing some work on the computer. Then I smelled something foul. I looked over disparagingly at my faithful companion Aya, whose clueless look protested her innocence. She was only partly right.
In any event, I didn't give it much thought, just dog farts in the night, exchanging glances... wondering who's at fault.. who made the stenches. And then the next morning I was woken by my wife in a full-fledged cleaning frenzy (which in itself is not unusual).
The rubber gloves were on, all of the vacuums were out of the closet, and by the look on her face, I knew a serious offense of some kind had been committed. But I never could have guessed how bad it was, or that it'd end up with me, in my underwear, holding a toothbrush and a washcloth on a Saturday night.
You see, my friends, apparently we left Aya alone for too long one night when we were out at dinner. She had to go, and when nature calls, who was she to refuse the call? This went unnoticed by us, because she made her deposit in a corner of the house that was a bit out of the way.
Normally this would be no big deal, but you see... when the Roomba kicked in at 3:00am that morning, it managed to find Aya's poop pile. Which it promptly rolled over, and smeared all over our house. When I say all over, I mean we had "racing stripes" of dog shit in every hallway, and in every room, laid down in the semi-random wandering pattern that the Roomba uses to clean.
Our house looked like it had been visited by a wino who mistook several bars of Chocolate ExLax for candy bars, and staggered around, leaving a trail of rectal leakage that would make Montezuma proud.
It was sort of funny... because it was so unexpected. But it was also seriously, completely, genuinely disgusting. I thought I made a shrewd bargain, offering to clean the Roomba in exchange for my wife cleaning the house.
Was I ever wrong. Caked on dog shit had managed to permeate every part of the poor naive little Roomba. My normal strategy for cleaning -- just spraying it with Lysol and then walking away -- clearly wouldn't fly here. Every time I took a new piece apart, I was greeted by the wafting smell of dog shit, with its stench seal freshly broken.
I scrubbed with the washcloth. I brushed with the toothbrush. Every wheel had to have each individual piece of tread cleaned out. These little flecks of caked dog shit had the unfortunate tendency of flying out randomly as I brushed them clean, often sticking to my face. Good thing I kept my mouth closed... most of the time.
I looked over menacingly at Aya, which just caused her to roll over so I could rub her belly. Short term memory must be a wonderful thing. Here's to wishing I can forget as well, because that, my friends, is how I spent my Saturday evening.
.....
See also: A fairly horrible story
This Saturday evening was not spent watching a movie with my wife. Nor was it spent enjoying a fine cigar, or having a glass of wine. No, my evening did not involve any of these pleasantries; instead, it consisted of a rather strange situation that was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events.
I was standing in my kitchen in my underwear, with a washcloth, toothbrush, and a foul odor swirling about me like Pigpen of Peanuts fame. My dog Aya was staring at me with a quizzical look in her eye... and not the slightest hint of guilt on her countenance. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started several months ago, when I decide that with my wife pregnant, and the dogs constantly doing their best to turn our house into a mud pit, we could use some cleaning help. Being the gadget-head that I am, I decided to pick up some of those Roomba automatic cleaning "robots".
Life with the Roomba was quite pleasant for the first few months we used it. We set the Roomba to kick in at 3:00am every morning, it would go about its cleaning duties, and then return home to charge when it was done. We would then empty the container the next morning, and I congratulated myself on my ingenuity... until "the day".
The day came as innocently as most do; and it almost went without incident as well. I was sitting on the couch engaged in my evening routine of watching TV and doing some work on the computer. Then I smelled something foul. I looked over disparagingly at my faithful companion Aya, whose clueless look protested her innocence. She was only partly right.
In any event, I didn't give it much thought, just dog farts in the night, exchanging glances... wondering who's at fault.. who made the stenches. And then the next morning I was woken by my wife in a full-fledged cleaning frenzy (which in itself is not unusual).
The rubber gloves were on, all of the vacuums were out of the closet, and by the look on her face, I knew a serious offense of some kind had been committed. But I never could have guessed how bad it was, or that it'd end up with me, in my underwear, holding a toothbrush and a washcloth on a Saturday night.
You see, my friends, apparently we left Aya alone for too long one night when we were out at dinner. She had to go, and when nature calls, who was she to refuse the call? This went unnoticed by us, because she made her deposit in a corner of the house that was a bit out of the way.
Normally this would be no big deal, but you see... when the Roomba kicked in at 3:00am that morning, it managed to find Aya's poop pile. Which it promptly rolled over, and smeared all over our house. When I say all over, I mean we had "racing stripes" of dog shit in every hallway, and in every room, laid down in the semi-random wandering pattern that the Roomba uses to clean.
Our house looked like it had been visited by a wino who mistook several bars of Chocolate ExLax for candy bars, and staggered around, leaving a trail of rectal leakage that would make Montezuma proud.
It was sort of funny... because it was so unexpected. But it was also seriously, completely, genuinely disgusting. I thought I made a shrewd bargain, offering to clean the Roomba in exchange for my wife cleaning the house.
Was I ever wrong. Caked on dog shit had managed to permeate every part of the poor naive little Roomba. My normal strategy for cleaning -- just spraying it with Lysol and then walking away -- clearly wouldn't fly here. Every time I took a new piece apart, I was greeted by the wafting smell of dog shit, with its stench seal freshly broken.
I scrubbed with the washcloth. I brushed with the toothbrush. Every wheel had to have each individual piece of tread cleaned out. These little flecks of caked dog shit had the unfortunate tendency of flying out randomly as I brushed them clean, often sticking to my face. Good thing I kept my mouth closed... most of the time.
I looked over menacingly at Aya, which just caused her to roll over so I could rub her belly. Short term memory must be a wonderful thing. Here's to wishing I can forget as well, because that, my friends, is how I spent my Saturday evening.
.....
See also: A fairly horrible story
:thumbs: 
