Vacuuming Nemesis
I have a super industrial vacuum that I absolutely love. It can handle just about any mess my kids throw its way (and they've certainly tested its limits!). I've even managed to suck up one or four socks with surprising speed and efficiency. There's only one thing that seems to be kryptonite for my incredible little machine: Kix.
Maybe I'm the only person who struggles to catch the silly things and suck them up. Usually one of two things happens: either the little cereal balls explode on contact with the front of the vacuum, spraying a fine yellow dust over a ridiculously large area; or, more likely, the vacuum bumps the pieces, pushing them ahead two feet at a time until they finally hit a wall, at which point they usually explode, spraying a fine yellow dust over a ridiculously large area. They've become my vacuuming nemesis.
There's a reason I bring all of this up. I wrote this morning about how Cora was enjoying her breakfast on the floor like a little puppy. Someone out there probably cringed when I wrote it, either because they knew what my floor looked like this morning, or because they've had experience vacuuming up Kix. Either way, the inevitable happened. After she'd eaten her fill (a surprisingly small fill compared to what she usually eats, especially since Henry had dumped an enormous amount of cereal into her doggie dish to feed her), someone kicked her bowl, spreading Kix everywhere.
I had one thought going through my mind as I gritted my teeth and spent twenty minutes chasing down cereal balls and dust. Kix. Why did it have to be Kix?
I sometimes wish my life were half as glamorous as Indiana Jones'.
Maybe I'm the only person who struggles to catch the silly things and suck them up. Usually one of two things happens: either the little cereal balls explode on contact with the front of the vacuum, spraying a fine yellow dust over a ridiculously large area; or, more likely, the vacuum bumps the pieces, pushing them ahead two feet at a time until they finally hit a wall, at which point they usually explode, spraying a fine yellow dust over a ridiculously large area. They've become my vacuuming nemesis.
There's a reason I bring all of this up. I wrote this morning about how Cora was enjoying her breakfast on the floor like a little puppy. Someone out there probably cringed when I wrote it, either because they knew what my floor looked like this morning, or because they've had experience vacuuming up Kix. Either way, the inevitable happened. After she'd eaten her fill (a surprisingly small fill compared to what she usually eats, especially since Henry had dumped an enormous amount of cereal into her doggie dish to feed her), someone kicked her bowl, spreading Kix everywhere.
I had one thought going through my mind as I gritted my teeth and spent twenty minutes chasing down cereal balls and dust. Kix. Why did it have to be Kix?
I sometimes wish my life were half as glamorous as Indiana Jones'.
