Matt told me that for Christmas he wanted to get me a steam cleaner. When he called Carly to ask her what she thought, she said, “Um, no. Probably not a good idea.” So instead he got me an ipod shuffle and Wii Active.
Fast forward 3 months…Our tax return comes to our bank account and after about a year of begging I’m finally getting my wish: new carpeting upstairs. I promised a whole lot of things for this, some of which isn’t PG, and Matt’s counter offer was that we had to buy a steam cleaner and a new vacuum. He said, and I quote, “Didn’t you say you wanted one of those Dyson vacuums?” I then said, “You mean those 500 dollar vacuums? Are you crapping me?”
Three to Five business days and free Amazon super saving shipping later I have a brand new Hoover SteamVac and a Dyson Ball. Can I just say that I am the luckiest part-time house wife ever? (Plus, the UPS guy who delivered it told me so.)
So what did I do today, you ask? Well, if you must know, after painting our dining room, I steam cleaned and vacuumed until my hearts content.
What did Claire just do, you ask? Peed through her Dora undies in a fit of rage on my RECENTLY STEAM CLEANED RUG.
Now she is flopping around on the floor with a naked bum screaming, “I OK Mama! Thank you, I OK! Please, TV on, please!!!” (Apparently she thinks that saying things like please and thank you whilst throwing a temper tantrum will get the TV put back on. The logic of a 2 year old isn’t that far off from an adult’s…)
So back to my domestication. Is it wrong that I’m so excited over having a new Dyson? I’m so in love with it that I am using excessive profanity and am in fantasy land. I wrote an email to my husband saying:
Dear Matthew, I am leaving you for my new Dyson. Not only does it pick up every bit of white Sadie-dog fur on our black Ikea rug, but it does it with style. It can bend in ways I never knew were imaginable. And it’s on a ball. I mean, finally, a ball with a purpose. (besides giving me children, what other purpose do they serve, really?) After I was done with it, I just dumped out it’s contents and it quietly went back to the closet. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.
p.s. I’m ******* serious. This ******* thing is the ****. You have no ******’ clue. Wait until you get to use it on Saturday. We’ll be fighting over who gets to ******** use the Dyson.
I put Martha Stewart to shame.
Oh, and Claire’s still having a tantrum.