Requesting a vacuum cleaner this Christmas made me feel old, alone, and a bit insane.
What made me feel worse?
The dewey eyed excitement response I wasn’t expecting to have when I got it. And when I took it home.
And when I turned into a floor-specific Cinderella….
But apparently, it’s not just old, solitary, possibly crazy folk who are into this stuff.
Because this 14 year old kid called Dylan had me beat in every respect when he got his dirt-sucking dreams met at his birthday soiree. The kid loves vacuums. Always has. Granted, he’s autistic and stuff, but for all I know I could be too. I just refuse to ask a doctor. And when I do ask them anything, I always end up having to ignore their ignorant opinions and silly labels anyway. (“No, you shut up, hypocrite! It’d take a sociopath to dub a lovely breath of fresh air like myself a sociocopath. Do you hear me?! Do you he-… Wait, you still breathing, dude? Doc? Okay, I’m going to take my hands off your neck now and quietly leave… not because I, ya know, think I’ve murdered you or anything… but because that hourly timer chime just rang…”)
And speaking of killing, this kid killed it – at his own birthday party by showing off his vacuum savvy.
What his mom had done was contact the vacuum company dudes who make and sell the kid’s favorite: something called the “Kirby”. Naturally, I imagine that rosy toy creature and the one that rhymes with him (“furby”) who both look like something your cleaning machine would willingly sniff up into a bag quickly like an insatiable blow fiend.
(Hey, this one looks like it could vacuum. Your soul. From your body.)
But this kid, who snubbed the play-toy Furbies and Kirbies alike early on, and was instead entranced by the vacuum Kirbies since age two, had a totes diff association. Because when a salesman read his mom’s email, showed up, and did a vacuum cleaner demo like a party clown wowing a crowd with cleaning products instead’a twisted balloon dogs, this pre-highschooler knew more than even he did. He was the one crowd-wowing. It was his time to shine.
And for the big finale – sales guy did something really sweet:
“At the end of the demonstration [he] gave my son a brand new Kirby vacuum,” Jodie Greene [the mom] said. “There was not a dry eye in the house.”
You know, my initial reaction before remembering the joy of my own gifted Christmas cleaner – was to laugh a little. But I think mayhaps that’s just me being a bit jealous. Because when my own eyes drooled joyous tears onto my brand new Bissell (or whatever brand it is; I’m not nearly as smart as Dylan – but, like they say, a rose by any other name an’ all that ) last month, I was merely taunted. If there wasn’t a dry eye in my house, it was ’cause they were all laughing to the point of tears at me like I was Carrie at the big dance. Bastards. Maybe I should go back to the doc. And accept one of those laughable labels he keeps trying to stick on me. That way people can better appreciate my momentous milestones and all their accessory emotions. If, ya know, he’s still alive working there. I heard he quietly retired, you know.
What do you mean you need to check the filter of the Dyson I bought the day he disappeared for evidence?
Paranoid.
You’re the ones who need help.