Dear Mr. Kirby Salesman:
Thank you for making me feel dirty. Very, very dirty.
It wasn't your tone of voice, or your manner, nor the way that you looked at our house. You are actually a really nice kid. I say kid because you look just like the young kid on Ratatouille. Hair and all.
I wouldn't have even let you in the house, but Clin opened the door. You said a free cleaning of one room - but no mention of your product. Clin heard "free" and "clean" and you were in. So we spent an hour and a half with you.
I warned you that Millie was afraid of vacuums. I thought that would be my out. That I would hide in her room, protecting her from the noise. But no! She was fascinated by the magic of your vacuum. Your tricks: the baking soda on the floor, the cigarette (tobacco sucked out, wrapper not touched), and all of your small white circles that showed the dust/lint/hair/dirt that resides where we live.
In fact Millie laid on the floor, belly down, hands supporting her head - as if she was watching a movie.
Yes, I wanted to purchase the amazing vacuum of the century. I wanted a motor created by Nasa. But there is no way that I'm going to spend that much on a vacuum. Not when there are so many needs that take precedence over wants.
So now, I feel dirty. But the main reason? One hour before you arrived, I had vacuumed. Everything. I even did the baseboards. I didn't even have the excuse of it being a day, or a week. No - my only dirty excuse was an hour. And all that work I did was obviously for nothing.
And the saddest part? I only vacuumed to make myself feel better - to feel like I was accomplishing something. And that... only lasted an hour.
Thank you for making me feel dirty. Very, very dirty.
It wasn't your tone of voice, or your manner, nor the way that you looked at our house. You are actually a really nice kid. I say kid because you look just like the young kid on Ratatouille. Hair and all.
I wouldn't have even let you in the house, but Clin opened the door. You said a free cleaning of one room - but no mention of your product. Clin heard "free" and "clean" and you were in. So we spent an hour and a half with you.
I warned you that Millie was afraid of vacuums. I thought that would be my out. That I would hide in her room, protecting her from the noise. But no! She was fascinated by the magic of your vacuum. Your tricks: the baking soda on the floor, the cigarette (tobacco sucked out, wrapper not touched), and all of your small white circles that showed the dust/lint/hair/dirt that resides where we live.
In fact Millie laid on the floor, belly down, hands supporting her head - as if she was watching a movie.
Yes, I wanted to purchase the amazing vacuum of the century. I wanted a motor created by Nasa. But there is no way that I'm going to spend that much on a vacuum. Not when there are so many needs that take precedence over wants.
So now, I feel dirty. But the main reason? One hour before you arrived, I had vacuumed. Everything. I even did the baseboards. I didn't even have the excuse of it being a day, or a week. No - my only dirty excuse was an hour. And all that work I did was obviously for nothing.
And the saddest part? I only vacuumed to make myself feel better - to feel like I was accomplishing something. And that... only lasted an hour.
3 comments:
oooooo, now I feel dirty too! Hey I saw a poster for Mama Mia today at IKEA. It comes out in the theater July 18th. Hooray! Do you think they will have it in Afton? Do you think it will be ok if I sing the whole entire movie? If not, do you wanna go find Abba Kareoke in Jackson?
I love reading your posts. You should do about 3 a day for my own personal entertainment, please! But really, thanks for all your insight and humor!!
Judy - Ha - I love your comments. Um, yes, I think we should totally plan to see Mama Mia in Afton and most likely no one will care if we sing the entire movie. If not - Abba Kareoke it is.
Annaca - thanks for giving my ego a boost:) I'm just glad I haven't offended you yet.
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