the sloppy copy

I hate vacuuming.

No, scratch that: I hate all the fucking preparations that must be made before vacuuming: moving furniture. Getting the vacuum out of the closet. Picking up larger bits of debris from the carpets: papers. Gum wrappers. Coins. Small pets and children.

It’s a lot of work, y’know? And it’s continual. Like, I might move the coffee table so I can vacuum the spot where it once stood, BUT THEN ONCE I MOVE THE COFFEE TABLE BACK I HAVE TO VACUUM THE SPOT WHERE IT TEMPORARILY STOOD. Ugh.

And then sometimes I forget that there’s an order in which we do things, so I’ll dust a bunch of crumbs and shit off of a table, onto the floor, and then remember I ALREADY VACUUMED IN THAT SPOT. Goddamn it.

Complicating matters is the vacuum cleaner itself: a 750-lb behemoth which must have been manufactured in the early 1930s, as “HOOVER” is stenciled across the front.

I loathed the chore until a few weeks ago. While idly perusing the ads of local discount stores, I came across Something Interesting, something that would not have caught my attention if I hadn’t been nursing a rotator-cuff injury stemming from a Vacuuming Incident days prior (Seriously. Motherfucker’s heavy. And has square wheels.):

Did you know that it is a Federal Offense to send your offspring Back To College without equipping them with a microwave, laptop case, mop bucket and vacuum cleaner that match?

Yep. Colorful vacuum cleaners on sale at the Target.

Now why would I, after bitching so much about hating vacuuming, get so fucking excited about the possibility of buying a new one? The answer is simple, Dear Reader, and wonderfully encapsulates the majority of my internal motivations:

They were available in hot pink.

Of course I still have to move all the furniture and trip over the cord and pick the shoes off the floor and remember to DUST FIRST, you dum-dum head!, but I’m doing all of these things in fucking style, man, because my vacuum looks like this:

As I posted to Facebook, Kindergarten Julie would be pleased with Grown-Ass Woman Julie.

I give it two more weeks before the novelty wears off.