Death Sucks

I took it hard when my toaster died: my dear, wonderful toaster that helped me be the best toast-maker ever.

This loss is so much worse. You see my Kirby had been with me for 15 years. 

And it was unexpected.  Dave (Mr. Sensitivity) called me at work and said, "The vacuum cleaner's dead." 

I stopped breathing. 

"What's wrong with it?"

"It won't turn on."

"I think I can fix it."

"No you can't. It's dead."

"I can try....," I blubbered.

And then he said 4 words that were like a dagger in the chest: "I got a new one."

What? Already? No!!!

We'd been through so much together. My Kirby came with an owner's manual and a VHS movie, which we watched together over and over when Kirby was young. That movie taught me how to operate my Kirby, to change her bag, fix her broken belts and even shampoo my carpet using one of her many accessories.

I'll bet the new one can't do that. 

"Couldn't you even wait until she was in the ground before you replaced her?"

"I like the new one. I think you will too."

When I got home I pulled out the owner's manual. I watched the movie with poor Kirby at my side. (It was a tear jerker.) 

I'm afraid Dave was right.  My Kirby has died.

I lashed out at Dave. "You never liked that Kirby! What did you do to her?"

"Are you accusing me of harming your Kirby? I WOULD NEVER harm a hair on the brush of that vacuum, you know that!"  

And then he added. "Wait a minute!  I know someone who despised your Kirby."

Sibling rivalry can be deadly.