The love that dare not speak its name

That's right, love between a woman and her vacuum cleaner.  I got my Hanukkamas present early--a Miele Orion.  Oh, how I love it.  I'm fairly certain that houses with lots of fussy woodwork should come with them standard.  I've swept the felted dust off of my transoms.  I've sucked glitter and lego arms from between my floorboards.  I even got the radiator brush--my radiators are now cobweb free.  I can even, by using the soft brush and the lowest power setting, dust my plant.

 I have only one plant, a peace lily.  It is the only plant I know that is capable of telling me that it needs water.  Plants that don't speak up until it's too late do not last long.  So now it's just saggy and cat-munched, instead of saggy, cat-munched, and dusty.  And yes, I know they're toxic to cats.  I've never actually SEEN the cats chomp it, but it sure is ratty.  But clean!

It really is a little embarrassing when people ask me what I want for the holidays and I excitedly say I already got it--Steve got me a vacuum!  And they get already to bond in sisterly outrage at getting a cleaning appliance.  But far more useful than diamonds.  Far more likely to improve my mood than gold.  The house feels lighter.  I think I shall write a sonnet.

For just a mere six hundred bucks
(I'm sure THAT is causing some yucks)
You can make your spouse happy,
She'll likely get sappy.
That you gave her a present that sucks.

Okay, so it was a limerick.  Whaterya gonna do?

Slurpity Suckity
Miele Orion
Sucks up the dirt that
lies on my floor

I fear that my love for it
Prosthelitizingly
Makes me look vacuous
and quite a bore.

See, Double Dactyl.  That's love, baby.