When we first moved here, I decided that a simple, cordless vacuum cleaner would be sufficient for our small apartment.
And then Muci joined our household, shedding his fur everywhere.
What followed, was of course, the purchase of a new, more powerful vacuum cleaner that would do the job.
Recently, The Mister and I were watching television, and an advert for the vacuum cleaner we’d bought came up. The advert was, admittedly, pretty cool.
The Mister: “I have a question about this vacuum cleaner.”
The Mister: “Where does the dust go?”
Me: “It goes into that cannister thingy.”
The Mister: “Oh.”
Me: “Why? Where did you think it’d go?”
The Mister: “I thought the dust would just disappear. Poof.”
Me: “Heh? The dust has to go somewhere. It can’t just disappear. That would be defying the laws of physics.”
The Mister: “Well, for the price I paid, I expect that vacuum cleaner to defy the laws of physics.”
The implication of this is far and wide-reaching, folks.
You see, if I were to follow this line of logic, then the only way I’ll be able to justify the purchase of a high-end designer handbag is if Karl Lagerfeld was a magician. Or a theoretical physicist.