My Vacuum Cleaner Sucks

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t meant to be poor.  Okay….I’m not poor….but I’m not rich.  And by ‘rich’ I don’t mean like Bill Gates Rich but more like a marginally good actor that only takes on small parts where he dies almost immediately.  Like Sean Bean (read Sheen Been*) rich.  He seems to support his ‘Playing Rugby With His Mates’ and ‘Hanging Out In A Pub’ activities quite well by dying two or three times a year.

Not that I want to be Sheen Been; rugby is a rough sport and one I would only consider playing if I had a loaded pistol with at least 15 20 30 rounds (I had to google how many people are on a Rugby Team so I knew the minimum rounds of ammo I would need, multiplied by the number of times I might miss a target and then a little extra in case a referee objects).

Anyway.  I’m pretty sure that I was meant to be, at least, Sheen Been Rich.  Because I hate cleaning.  And my vacuum cleaner sucks – in a bad way.  I should have gotten the canister model except  The Viking’s canister was a pain in the ass because the wheels wouldn’t roll over its own electrical cord and I thought an upright wouldn’t have that issue.  And it doesn’t have that issue.  Instead, it has 321 other issues that make me holler and curse every time I have to use the fucking thing.

My stupid back hates vacuuming anyway (no matter the model) because my torso is always bent slightly forward.  Same thing goes for mopping the floor, cleaning vegetables and dusting low places because that’s what happens when you don’t have a disc in your lower back).  And we won’t even talk about the epic nightmare cleaning the bathroom has become.

What does all this have to do with being rich?  Well, a lot, actually.  If I had the money I would throw this stupid vacuum cleaner in the garbage and get a better one.  And if I were rich, I’d get a cleaning person to just live in the spare bedroom and spend his/her days cleaning up after The Viking and me.

Ugh!  The house is pretty small for three adults so I should probably just buy a slightly bigger house with a wing for the maid.

And if I have an entire wing of the house dedicated to a maid, maybe I could have a cook too.  I’m not really fond of cooking and I don’t know how to cook to be skinny, so having a cook present us with tasty, healthy food three times a day would be lovely.

And now that I’m thinking of things that I don’t like……I don’t like door-to-door sales wo/men or religious groups** that keep trying to save my soul at the front door, so a Butler would be awesome.  Surely the Butler would make the person wait at the door while he/she came to inform me that “Religious Panderers are begging an audience, Madame” and I could say “Unleash the dogs!”

OH!  And a driver for long trips.  I should have a limo so I can just nap or play games on my tablet.

Speaking of long trips, I really hate economy class on airplanes.  It’s terrible.  I should just have my own jet so I don’t have to share air with 300 other people.  And then The Viking’s family could say they want to visit for a couple weeks and we would say “I’ll send the jet for you tomorrow.”

Huh.

I’ve talked myself right out of being Sheen Been Rich.  I’m going to need more than the amount of money he makes.  Maybe Mr. Bean Rich?  He certainly has more money than Sheen Been, unless he has a gambling problem.  Let’s leave the Beans behind and go for the Golden Goose then.  At one point in time, The Viking and I thought I should marry Phil Collins for a year and then get a multi-million dollar divorce settlement (Phil does that a lot!) but then The Viking had to trick me into marrying him so that plan is down the toilet.

Thinking….

Thinking….

Thinking….

There’s just no way around it.  I do need to be Bill Gates Rich.  But I won’t flaunt it and I won’t let it change me and I promise to stay humble.

Trust me.

*I could have gone with Shawn Bawn but I like the Sheen Been better.

**I was interrupted while writing this post by a door-to-door sales woman.

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