Maybe if 26 other people all chipped in. . .

OR: 'Why you should never let your children crawl on my floors"

One afternoon last week I left Clyde and Chuck home asleep while Will and I made a Costco run. I was delightedly surprised to come home to a freshly spruced up living room and kitchen; Chuck was just putting away the vacuum as I came in. I began to thank him, but he kindly explained it wasn't for me that he had done this, but that someone was coming to clean our living room carpet and they would be back any minute. We'd been talking about getting our carpets cleaned for a while (little boys + sippy cups + milk-y drool + light carpeting = the need for the occasional shampoo) but this seemed pretty out of the blue, especially since we had plans that evening. Chuck then explained that a nice gentleman had come by and offered a free carpet cleaning of any room in our house - his company was testing some sort of new product and the only catch involved filling out a survey afterwards, and maybe telling our family and friends if we were pleased with the results.

*Quick sidenote: Chuck and I had just had a conversation about our varying areas of expertise, intelligence-wise. He had conceded that I was more 'book-smart' but insisted that he was more 'street-smart'. Uh-huh.

So, sure enough, the nice gentleman returned escorting a nice, if somewhat unkempt, lady who rolled in with a couple duffle bags and a large box. The gentleman began to explain that they were so excited to have this opportunity, because they were in the middle of a big contest, oh, and just for our information, the item she would be showing us today from the box was, indeed, for sale! He then left and our introduction to the SuperVacuum 3000 (not its real name, because, a. I can't remember it, and b. I don't want to come up if someone googles it) began.

The next forty-five minutes was, quite frankly, ridiculous. The lady, uh, Wanda (also not her real name, can't remember it either) started by vacuuming an area of our living room with our vacuum first, which she kept referring to as a 'Dust Devil' instead of a 'Dirt Devil' - apparently she isn't good with names either. She then assembled her light-weight, aeronautic engineer-designed SuperVacuum 3000 and went over the same spot. I'll admit, I was a little embarrassed when she pulled out the VERY dirty filter. Then she vacuumed over the spot again. Another dirty filter. She repeated this a few more times, all while saying "And remember, Chuck, you said you vacuumed this area before I got here with your Dust Devil, and I vacuumed it also with your Dust Devil and we're still getting this much dirt!"

For some reason, my loyalty to my four year old wedding present vacuum (thanks Sammy!) came out, and I tactfully said, "Yes, our vacuum didn't get everything there after going over it twice, but now your vacuum has gone over the spot several times and there still seems to be quite a lot of dirt, so . . . " Even as I trailed off, I felt bad (Wanda was obviously just an underpaid saleswoman who wouldn't be earning any commission off of us) so I quickly followed with "Will it take quite a bit to get it clean since we've let it get so bad? And then the SuperVacuum 3000 will be able to maintain the cleanliness?" Wanda looked relieved and quickly agreed that it would take some work to get my carpets completely dirt-free, but then the SV 3000 would keep them that way.

We were also able to witness the SV 3000 vacuum ten pounds of sand out of a container and RETAIN its suction, as well as getting baking powder up that fifty-two swipes (simulating a year of once-a-week vacuum-ings) with my 'Dust Devil' left. At this point my curiosity got the best of me, and I asked how much the durn thing was. In my head I was figuring about a thousand, since I know that the ultra-cool Dysons can run a few hundred. Imagine my shock when Wanda said TWENTY-SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS. I seriously almost laughed out loud. Who buys these things? (Of course, my sincerest apologies if you, indeed, own one. Good investment!) We made it clear that we only choose to do into debt for certain things (house, school, car) and that we didn't currently have the money on hand for such a purchase and didn't anticipate making the SV 3000 a priority to save up for (Umm, trip to Disneyland summer 2010 is the top of my list!). We stuck to our guns, even after several financing options, and Wanda packed her bags. She begrudingly offered to still clean our carpets with the SV 3000's sister product, the SuperShampooer 3001, but we declined. The nice gentleman came back to retrieve her, and that was that. Except that I took some pictures . . .

*Emily B. : I'm not sure if you read my blog, but if you do, PLEASE STOP NOW. I'm afraid you'll never come over to my house if you see the following. Thanks!

Yeah, that was all on my floor.

In my defense, she poured out the baking powder (which works as a freshener when applied and vacuumed up) and she also vacuumed under my couches (the SV 3000 was pretty cool in its manuverability).

This whole presentation was like an extra birthday present for Clyde, who is obsessed with vacuums. He happily signed 'more' whenever Wanda turned the SV 3000 off, and got in on the action with his little push toy from Aunt Amanda (he does have a toy vacuum, but prefers the push toy).

Sadly, I still let my children play on the floor. Turn me into Children's Protective Services, if you must, but I imagine that the fact that I photographed first and rescued second when Clyde had this chokehold on Will will serve as better evidence of my neglectful tendencies :)