And it’s a good thing he does. Scooter-bound as I am, we’d have nothing to eat if he didn’t. Or, perhaps more importantly, nothing to drink.
Normally, he comes home with bags of groceries and some essential hardware items in his arms. Imagine my surprise when, just yesterday, he arrived home with a smart young thing on one of those very strong arms. And a lithe, sleek, little number she was.
I could tell that he was quite pleased with himself. There was a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips. He said that he thought that she would be good for our relationship. Especially given our current situation. I was unaware that we needed help but I certainly sat up right up when he mentioned the possibility. If I could have, I would have stood right up.
He asked if I wanted her to perform for us. Why not, I said. We’re already in new territory here. Let’s see what she’s got.
After a bit of fumbling, he found her switch, turned her on and she got right down to business.
She squiggled under furniture, around corners, through the kitchen and on to the stairs. She discovered mountains of cat hair and little bits and pieces of things I was embarrassed to admit I’d never seen. And she gathered them all neatly up into a little bundle, put them in her dust bin so we could throw it out and sweetly went back to being just another pretty face in the closet.
Is it sexist of me to refer to our new Shark vacuum sweeper as a woman? You bet it is. And rightly so. No man I know can clean like that.