Mr. Snark here.
I would like to address the most recent of the aspersions heaped upon me daily in this space, by drawing the attention of our esteemed hostess to the conversation reproduced below:You: I want a Dyson vacuum for my birthday.
Me: How dumb do you think I am? I’m not buying you a vacuum for your birthday. I’ll get in trouble.
You: No, you don’t understand. This is more than a vacuum; it’s a status symbol, a thing that can be showed off. It makes other women jealous. It’s what I want. Buy it.
Me: Looks like a trap.
--Several years and one vacuum clear later--
You: Your idea of romance is a new vacuum cleaner.
In fairness, it is an excellent vacuum cleaner, aside from the speed and ease with which its contents can be emptied onto the floor by Miss Bear, for which it can hardly be faulted.