U-WRITE-IT RESULTS

After a few seconds of silence my friend looked at me and said, "Alex you know that price is quality, why did you even bother buying it?"

I felt like a complete and utter fool once again, for that small discount I now had to put in the gas money to take it back, It feels good when you save a buck or two but in this case I was just wasting time and money.

I tortured myself for a few minuets and then finally set out to the store dragging my friend along for company.

Going back to the store with my friend helped me realise how close we were, it gave us a chance to bond.

I exchanged the vacuum for another of the same model and make, this time though I asked the clerk if I could try it to make sure it didn't make the same noise!

After the store me and Lara went around the corner to the coffee shop and had a few laughs on the outcome of our day together, suddenly I had made a realization, I had a great 2 for one deal here, my vacuum and my best friend!

"But look at the ad," Josef pointed out. "It says, 'No More Dirty Carpet.'"

Infuriated, Helga grabbed the entangled cord, pulling with all her might.

Tipping sideways, the lamp hung fire for only a moment. Meeting no resistance, it continued its graceful arc directly toward the curio cabinet.

Helga lunged to grab the lamp before it smashed Granny's teacup collection to smithereens. Unfortunately, Helga was too short on one end.

The tinkling crash was followed by a dull thud as Helga tripped over the footstool. Her head hit the corner of the coffee table just as the front door opened.

The last thing she heard before passing out was Oscar complaining, "Land sakes, gal, WHAT are you doing with my new electric lawn mower?"

"Return it? They let you return stuff you've used? Who empties the dust bag?"

Helga looked at me, shrugged, then rolled the vacuum down the hall.

I always wonder who is going to clean up the messes.

Food fights? Who cleans that up? It certainly takes longer to clean up than it does to fling Jello and tuna sandwiches across the room. There can't be any kind of positive tradeoff there.

Pillow fights? All those feathers. Ever tried sweeping up feathers? Forget it!

Blackberry fights? Purple stained t-shirts. More steps to follow doing the laundry. Not worth it.

Wars?

Cleaning up is such an ugly process.

I hired Helga when Tom passed away, and discovered through her relationship the mothering I never had as a child. The mothering I will pass on to my son, due in August. Tom's legacy, the only tangible piece of him I can love. The smile that will echo Tom's essence, the eyes that will surely observe with Tom's same intensity.

Helga began to shove the vacuum cleaner back into the box; I stopped her.

"It's only money. Only a thing." I grabbed her square shoulders and pulled her close to me. The tears streamed down my face but I couldn't make a sound, couldn't breathe. Tom was gone. Helga could not replace him; I knew this.

She shakes as if she has athritis and rickets.

She spews out fire as from a torrid volcano. (electrical wiring default!!)

After the huge volcanic rumble, she squirts out water like from a cistern, probably as if she has been used on the wet floors in the toilet and has gulped the water on the floor.

She suddenly goes dead like a limp bably in a mother's arm, and refuses to budge.

This is the last straw which leavs me numb and heart broken for the wee gadget!!

Perhaps she misses her owner, where her heart belongs, so to the owner she goes back.