Stumpy is five years old, but he's suddenly learned to hunt. (Or he's been doing it incompetently.)
He used a bird to decorate the upstairs bathroom with downy softness.
My vacuuming never ends. Boy I wish it did. Or I'd like to suck Stumpy up by his tail.
(Service man: "You've a seventeen pound cat stuck in your hose there."
Me: "It's just a fur ball.")
When you vacuum stuff up, it's almost like you're making a space for something else. A negatively charged plate-collector. Creating a low pressure area, where new things go to settle, like the Prairie. Wouldn't it be nice if vacuuming was reversed, a reverse-stable process? Where once you vacuumed something up, your house or car, it stayed that way?
When you felt spunky you could add in cleaning details you've never even thought of today. "Ceiling corners and booktops are done, and the light fixtures. Quite the sparkle in here. I think I'll do the _________________"
What would that do to the vacuum cleaner industry? (Boy, 10Q's are getting to me.) At first glance, in the trading halt, sales would be crushed. But people would still need vacuums to get there, although there would probably be fewer units with higher ASP's, passed around families and friends a lot. Mothers would have them, of course, but probably just lend them to their sons and daughters rather than waste money on a new one. But checking in on the SI thread, a guy said that he would probably buy one for the first time in his life. "Vacuuming has always been a frustrating, never-ending bummer. It's discouraging ~ I hate it. But this would be once and for all. My girlfriend will love it. And me. We could.....share."
Glad I held. Gap up in the morning.
Crap! There's a beagle in my yard.
OK, I'm back. He was peeing on impeditum! I banged on the window, and the little shit came over and thought I wanted to let him in. I growled and bared my teeth (honest, I have a "visual signal" theory) and he seemed to get that. Took the path of least resistance out of here. He had a red Christmas bow stuck to his collar.
Now Fui wants in, doorman. (Ms Cataracts can still look in the window and see me at my desk.) |
