A Man and His Dyson

I never thought it possible for a man to love his hand-held vacuum until that one midsummer’s night clean. It was a hot and humid summer night. I was up late working on a deadline and felt something crawling across my bare foot. I looked down. Nothing was there. After a few more minutes of clicking away at the keyboard, I felt it again. I looked down and just as before, nothing.  Was it
the oppressive heat messing with my mind? Or perhaps it was the digestion of that late night taco draining the blood from my brain and into my stomach, causing me to sense things that weren’t there.

This time I went into pre-emptive strike mode. As I pretended to type on my
laptop, I continuously stared down at my feet. And, voila! There it was, the source of my foot sensations—a black ant.  So I went to get a paper towel in hopes of removing the ant from the floor, only to find that he had quickly scurried away.

We played this game of chase a few times. Admittedly, this was
really starting to bug me. Then it struck me! Well, not literally struck me. 
But struck me in moment of pure genius. Well, not pure genius, more like in a moment of "hey the solution is right in front of your face."  I looked to the countertop. And there it was, gleaming like a gift from the household appliance gods, the "antswer" to my problem.  My Dyson hand-held vacuum! (insert trumpet fanfare here).

In one swift action I removed the Dyson from its charging cradle, did my best Dirty Harry impression, pointed the nozzle at the pesky beast, squeezed the trigger, and proceeded to watch the critter land in the dust collecting bin. And that my friends, readers, or whatever you choose to call yourself, is how this man has come to love his Dyson handheld vacuum cleaner. 

To this very day, the Dyson is never more than an arm’s length away when I am up late and clicking away on my keyboard. 

Life…. Live it fully charged.

P.S. - No ants were harmed in the writing of this story.