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You Suck

May 12, 2017

Now ya’ll know by now that I’m OCD.  (That means Owfully Clean Damnit!)  There’s just no other way to say it so I'll just lay it out.   I like things clean and orderly. 

 

Now everybody knows that just because we like something doesn’t mean we get it.  I like a nice fat bank account, I like shiny new sports cars and I like my husband to always agree with me and adore everything about me.  I like to eat double hot fudge sundaes every night and not gain an ounce.  I like politicians to care about We the People and not just their party and careers.  You get the idea, right?

 

So today I decided to clean my car.   Don’t be fooled, OCD-ers get their cars as dirty as the next guy.  In spite of what you may think, we’re not always OC Do-ers.  Anyway, my car was, how do I say this gracefully, NAASTY!  In all fairness to Lexie (my car) it has worked extra hard hauling dogs, grandchildren and whatnots without complaint, which is quite remarkable for a car with OCDD (Oodles of Caboodles Delusion Disorder) which is a slick way to say:  I don’t believe a pack of creatures and kids is an excuse for filthiness.

 

But back to my focus.  (OCD and ADD make a grand couple.)  After yanking the empty drinks from sticky cup-holders and gathering straw wrappers, kid-meal toys and dog biscuits from underneath the seats I was ready to rumble.  Unfortunately, my vacuum had it’s own version of rumbling which may be part of the problem.  It didn't even remotely pick up the goldfish crumbs and dog hairs.

 

“You suck!” I hollered at it.

 

That wasn’t very nice.

 

“Wait, I’m sorry.  You really don’t suck!”

 

But that was the problem in the first placed so I changed my tone to a more coddling tenor. 

 

“Please, little vacuum, why don't you suck?”

 

Nothing.  Lexie stared at me with the look  of:  I told you so... but do you ever listen?  Nooo..."

 

"Oh put a sock in it Lexie," I drawled.

 

That gave me an idea.  Maybe the vacuum was plugged with a sock or something?  I emptied the canister and fished around inside but all I got were dirty hands.  Yuk.

 

I resorted to coaxing.  Okay, begging.

 

“Look, you were born to suck.  Just try it-- you’ll like it!  It’s in your job description. Pretty pleeeeease?”

 

When it still refused to cooperate I threw it not-so-gently aside muttering a few choice words that circled the neighborhood even with clenched teeth.  I glared at it and seethed, “You totally suck!”

 

It was a complete lie and all of us knew it.  Me, Lexie and he-who-must-not-be-named piece of crap vacuum!

 

 

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