“You’re not funny,” I said.
“Lissy, come on, now . . . you’ve been living here for . . .” He paused to think. “Months,” he said, “and you’ve never once cleaned your room.”
“That’s all lies,” I said. I’d been living there almost eight months, and I knew I’d cleaned that basement at least twice.
“Is it, though?”
“It is.”
“I very much doubt that.”
“Do we have a vacuum or not?”
“What kind?”
“There are kinds?” What did I know about vacuums?
He cocked an eyebrow.
I shrugged.
“I’ve got one of those automated ones around here somewhere, I think,” he said.
“Automated?”
“You know, those robotic ones that vacuum by themselves.”
“You scare me.”
He smirked. “Well, it’s either that or the mini-vac, so take it or leave it.”
“I . . . guess I’ll try it.” When I lived with Joy, we had an upright Oreck and a Shop-Vac that were used regularly and often left in plain sight. My dad, on the other hand, had a housekeeper named Marian who came by every other week. Not that Marian ever really had that much to do . . . neither my dad nor I spend very much time at the house, and I mostly eat microwaveable food while he mostly eats out. Marian hasn’t cleaned the basement since I’ve lived here, and my dad never offered, which is okay by me. I don’t feel comfortable with the idea that someone is touching my stuff, that someone is touching my stuff and judging me, that someone is cleaning my stuff, that someone might possibly be stealing my stuff. Granted, I don’t really have anything of readily apparent worth aside from a laptop and an mp3 player, but I do have some expensive paintbrushes. And besides, I think my dad was trying to instill a sense of responsibility in me . . . like I can’t expect to coast through life on someone else’s hard work. A little late in life for one of those lessons, I think, but whatever.
I found myself back downstairs staring at the small silver disc. It looked like a baby U.F.O. had landed down there. I was expecting little greys to come crawling out any second, probes in hand.
I turned it on and watched it maneuver itself slowly around the room. Well, it wasn’t as exciting as an upright, but it would do.
Labels: january brings few faces
