Dear Kirby

Today you came to my house.

Right at naptime.

Silly me left my garage door open after a late morning of window shopping, Chick-Fil-A and a not so much window shopping trip at Wal-Mart.

I now know that no matter what, that sucker (my garage door) will remain closed.

At.all.times.

First you made me ooh and ahh over your fancy vacuum.

I thought my house was clean.

I thought I had a case of ocd when it came to cleaning my house.

But you.

Proved.

Me.

Wrong.

The dirt, the dust, the everything.

I thought I was going to have a panic attack seeing all of that filth come off of my "Itrytovacuumeverysingleday" floors.

However, I must give myself a pat on the back.

I did not fall for your "falling prices" selling technique.

Although I do admit you calling your boss multiple times was somewhat convincing.

I did not fall for you once the two stains that would not come off of my carpet came up.

And I did not fall for you when you cleaned my entire living room for me.

If your price was lower I would want you, love you and cherish you forever.

Maybe if Mister Kirby is reading this I will receive you. For free. (one could hope, pray and send some vibes out to the Kirby corporation, right?)

So in my conclusion of this letter, I promise if you give me a free Kirby I will be kind and treat him very, very well.

Besides, we all know my obsession with vacuuming....it's a little scary.