Why I Love NERDS!!!

Siiiiiiiiigh. I don't like cleaning stuff. I don't like doing laundry. I don't like doing dishes. I don't like Swiffering (not that it's even a real verb / gerund). I don't like ironing and I DEFINITELY do NOT like vaccuuming.

Don't get me wrong-- it's not as though I would go so far as to say that I hate doing any of that stuff (unless I'm redoing it immediately after just having done it the first time because some penis-bearing member of the household just walked in from outside and screwed it all up, but that's another post entitled, "All The Different Ways The Peninses In My Life Bug Me"). And there are a few chores I can't complain about too loudly because, as any good mom knows, once kids get to be around ten years old, we get a break from some of the chores around the house by "teaching our kids about responsibility". Yes, we have to rewash the pans a few times and scrub the toilet bowl a little harder to demonstrate the concept of the idea of "clean". But vaccuuming... Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Right this moment as I type away, centering my usually manic, unfocused mind on anything other than disdainful loathing for Eureka Betsy, she sets silently in her corner giving me the ol' Stinkeye. You see, a couple of weeks ago I was cruising the web and saw an article on child development and one of the sentences in the article was:

"Consider vaccuuming more frequently now."

It stuck. So I considered it and started taking a closer look at the floors and, sadly, realized yet again that Eureka Betsy is a pitiful excuse for a vaccuum cleaner. For some reason she leaves an unclean streak behind her everywhere she goes. No problem for me, though, since I'm used to picking up her slack after all these years. I have become accustomed to vaccuuming east-west across the room, then pivoting and going north-south over the same patch of land. Alas, my attempts to keep carpets free of Katiehair and other gross debris seem to be failing as Eureka Betsy climbs ever higher into old age and on toward that great vaccuum-cleaner retirement home in the sky.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. OK. Here's what's going through my mind:

• The Beans will soon escape the confines of their Cages for good and then the whole house will be their Playground.
• Katie (who is a people) will not tolerate living outside and therefore will continue to shed her hair in the house unless I shave her.
• Penis-bearing members of the household, who have until now steadfastly refused to remove their shoes when they come inside, will probably not change their behavior and if I cut off their feet to solve this problem I will simply make more work for myself.
• Eureka Betsy weighs about 2,500 pounds or so and will not take kindly to being pushed around much longer as it is.
• If I continue to push around Eureka Betsy I will either pop a disc in my back so hard it will likely shoot through my skin and lodge itself tw inches deep in whatever happens to be near, or I will develop freakily huge muscles on one side of my upper back and neck, giving me the appearance of a hunchback and making me repellant to my children (Katie included unless I buy her different dog food), thus rendering my efforts at maintaining a clean house pointless because I will derive no happiness from playing in it with my children (who recoil from me in terror and disgust).
• I should eat a big blue box of Nerds to improve my outlook on this situation.

See? No way to win. If I don't clean my house, my children will die from dog-hair/ yard debris-stuck-to-the-soles-of-men's-shoes poisoning. If I do clean my house, I end up a loveless, deformed freak. What should I do?

Common sense says vaccuuming wouldn't be so bad were it not for Eureka Betsy's heavy inefficiency. And I know there are pretty pink vaccuums made by elves that glide effortlessly along, leaving the air in each and every room of my house tasting like candy and making my hair shiny and beautiful-- I've dreamed about them but can never seem to find them at Sears. And now that the Nerds are doing their job, I'm going to smile, unplug Eureka Betsy, roll her on her casters into Biscuit's room (and hope the Penis-Bearer gets the idea but not hold my breath), giggle a devious giggle and go play a prank on Hubby and forget all about this dilemma until either the sugar wears off or until the other Penis-Bearer sets foot into the house. Good day toyou-- I'm off to cavort with the fairies until Happy Nappy #2 concludes!!!!!