A sucker for the cordless
If cordless vacuuming was the future then surely the same would apply to power tools, wouldn’t it? Of
course it would.
Ilike to think I live in a progressive, modern household. Not for us are the norms of yesteryear where Mrs P would have spent her days in the kitchen organising the meat and three veg and making sure my Y-fronts were freshly starched just in case I got run over by a bus.
In our house we share such duties, though if the truth be known we are more likely to be consuming some disgustingly healthy, organic, glutenfree meal these days, and if I should get run over by a bus the nurses up at the emergency department would likely find me resplendent in the latest boxers from the Farmers 50 per cent off sale — possibly even the ones I got for Christmas which say “Big
Boy” on the front.
Anyway.
We share most of the household duties down the middle.
Now although we disagree on exactly what “down the middle” means — Mrs P is adament men think a 70/30 split is down the middle — we do agree on the necessity for me to do the vacuuming.
Health issues render Mrs P unable to embark on the task, so she adopts an advisory role and points me to the bits of fluff and debris on the carpet I can’t see and will never see simply because I’m a male.
I think she’s also checking me out from behind too, if you know what I mean . . . but I digress.
So anyway, Mrs P has decided Old Faithful, which has served us/me for many years, has finally decided to retire and we need a new cordless one like her mate has and swears by.
And, she says it will, and I quote: “brighten the experience”.
Of course I felt cheered up by the prospect of actually enjoying the vacuuming. Not.
And my mood wasn’t cheered up any more by the uber-enthusiastic salesman who ran off a list of features so long I almost went to sleep. I think he even said it had an ejector seat built in somewhere.
Naturally the price was hidden in among all the patter. I definitely heard that.
To me it sounded like the equivalent of the gross domestic product of a small European country. To Mrs P it was a bargain.
Obviously I did the male thing and trotted out the usual delaying tactics. “Do we really need a new one . . .” “Why don’t we go and have a think aboutit...”
“Let’s wait till they go on special”. I’m sure you’ve all been there.
But all the excuses were to no avail, and in the end I pulled the magic plastic from the wallet and did the deed. But there was some method to the madness.
Mrs P and the salesman were so insistent that cordless was the way to go I suddenly remembered the new cordless drill I’ve had my eye on down at Bunnings.
If cordless vacuuming was the future, then surely the same would apply to power tools, wouldn’t it? Of course it would.
Why, in this day and age of progressiveness and sharing the household duties, I might even let Mrs P have a go — just a little one, mind — when I next planned some manly building-type stuff.
With that in my thoughts, I casually dropped in the necessity for upgrading my power tools as we drove home.
Unfortunately, Mrs P didn’t see it the same way and positively flicked the switch off and yanked the cord from the socket.
“You don’t need it,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with your old one, and it’s not like I’m ever going to use it anyway, is it?”.