Who Needs Marshmallows When You Can Buy a Kirby?

So Kenny and I are sitting outside last evening, enjoying salty margaritas and how-was-your-day stories, when a rather delightful, uber-enthusiastic, door-to-door Kirby salesman (tell your mother they DO still exist!) pulls into the driveway and offers an in-home demonstration guaranteed to “knock my socks off!” Who could resist? We invited him in and fired up another pitcher of margaritas, which we all happily shared while he vacuumed every single surface of our house, including our bed. (OMG, apparently there’s an entire village of dust mites squatting in my pillow… Did I NEED to know this??)

By 10:00 p.m., we’d finished our third pitcher, we’d seen all 32 attachments, and my house practically glowed in the dark. Wearily, but cheerfully sent Kirby guy on his way with hugs, laughter, and promises to “get together again soon!” Woke up this morning the proud owners of a $2000 vacuum cleaner (12 EZ monthly payments!) with enough power to suck up my Chihuahua AND his favorite bunny rabbit chew toy. The lesson? Don’t let ’em in after 8:00 p.m., and never drink with your sales guy…