For a while I wasn’t the most clean person in the world. Then I graduated from college and learned that people don’t really like hanging out in a room that smells kind of stale. Otherwise known as growing up.
Welcome to adulthood.
I haven’t needed my own vacuum until recently. My wonderful roommate brought to our roommate relationship, among other things, a vacuum cleaner.
From the early 80’s.
How do I know? Because the first time I saw it I immediately started looking for Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd.
Needless to say it didn’t last long. So while we contemplated getting it fixed, I was thinking, “I wish I could just get married so I could register for a Dyson.”
This my friends is what we need to talk about.
This thought process.
I know, I’m hitting this hard and it hurts. But ladies, you need to get rid of your theoretical hope chests.
In my theoretical hope chest there was a really nice vacuum cleaner. I don’t know what’s in yours: silver platters, the pin your Great Grandma carried with her over on the Titanic, some really fancy “you-know-whats,” a Kitchen-Aid Mixer, etc.
Anyway, you know what I did? I went and bought my self a vacuum cleaner. And it’s a Dyson. So what that I hyperventilated in the vacuum cleaner aisle at Target before I made my choice. So what that I called my mother three separate times to make sure that I wasn’t being fiscally irresponsible.
I did it.
I got rid of my theoretical hope chest and I have a really nice vacuum cleaner.
What I really want to say is, I don’t know when I’m going to get married. But I really wanted a nice vacuum cleaner. And you know what? It’s not worth waiting for. It could be years, or decades (please Jesus, no …)
Am I giving up hope?
Not in the least. And I’m not jinxing myself either.
Those suckers last forever, so if I find a guy I can stand talking to for more then five minutes I’m sure we’ll be able to register for something awesome like a 70 inch flat screen T.V. instead of having to waste that space on a vacuum.
Also friends, meet my Vacuum.