psychic vacuum

My vacuum cleaner broke yesterday. This was a big deal and not because I paid $550 for it. Lately, with our house on the market, I use that gangly contraption more often than I shower.

There are two reasons for this enslavement and they are named Dakota and Gemini. Keeping our for-sale home free of puppy grime is a constant effort, particularly during this snowy and rainy weather. These two canine bundles of filth fling a cloud of dirt and fur everywhere their eight grubby paws go. One day without my vacuum and fur is piling up faster than Octuplet Mom is populating the earth.

So you can imagine my anxiety when it goes kaput. I was feverishly vacuuming prior to potential buyers coming to view the house. True, I was nearly done. But what about tomorrow? How would all the hair be removed tomorrow?

I shook the vacuum. Turned it on and off. Bounced it up and down on the floor. "Work, work, woooorrrk," I pleaded. But it stood there, stoic and unmoving as if to say, "Relax sister, my work here is done." (I'm not sure why but I imagine that with an Indian accent.) Exasperated, I picked up the remaining hair by hand (you should really try this sometime) and made a mental note to add Vacuum Repair to my already long list of to-do's.

I left the house just before the realtor was supposed to arrive. Now if you're selling a house in this market you know better than to get too excited about your house actually selling. Our house hasn't been on the market long and there's been very little interest in it. So while I was pleased that people were coming to view it, I wasn't very hopeful and was really more preoccupied with finding that vacuum repair man.

But it turns out my little vacuum knew something I didn't. Those people made an offer on our house and we're now under contract with a closing date of April 15. Later that evening my vacuum and I twirled in an ecstatic little happy dance while singing, no more vacuuming, no more vacuuming...!

But don't worry, I will keep showering.