Saturday, May 07, 2016

hang on

We have been in a replacement mood lately. It seems that things in our household that we take for granted are deciding to wear out at the same time. I just hope that we aren't part of the trend.
The truth is, I like having new machines and such around the house. Those new, technologically up to date gadgets and gizmos keep me interested. It seems like I always have a new toy to play with. That is, of course, if I've been good and Mary sees fit to reward my good behavior.
Well, I must have been especially good lately because she bought me a grand spankin' new, up to the minute dodad-wise, testosterone oozing, ready to attack first and damn the nametaking, VACUUM CLEANER! And it'is RED, my favorite color.
I'm telling you, this puppy is hot. This morning it was sitting in the garage in a closet that holds most of the rest of the cleaning stuff we have--you know, like the half dozen mops (each with a particular function), all those special rags I've mentioned here in the past, brooms, extra plastic bags just in case, a couple of rugs (the runner type in case someone with dirty feet wants to enter the house and defile it with their unwelcome dirt), you get the idea. I could sense that there was something amiss whenever as I approached that closet. I felt a strange vibe coming from inside. At first, I ignored it, but the longer I took to acknowledge it the more palpable that unhappy aura became. I finally gave in and freed the grumbling machine from its cell.
It sat in the middle of the room (I swear I could hear it purring the way a lion does when it anticipates a kill), arrogantly daring me to plug it in and see if I was man enough to take it for a spin. I figured no vacuum cleaner, no matter how red, was gooing to get the better of me. So, with a tinge of trepidation, I took the controls in hand and let her fly.
I was in control of the beast but could sense that it just wanted to take off and go where no vacuum has gone before. It handled like an Italian sports car, cornering like a Ferrari, and eating up the straightaways like a Lamborghini racing to the finish line. I felt like a real man chasing after that vibrant red machine. No toy, this one. When I was done with the vacuuming I felt like a conquering hero. I showed that pissant vacuum who was boss.
Mary must really love me. She buys me new toys and let's me help clean the house. What more could a guy ask for.

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