It's hard not to be smug.
When my Kirby died last summer, it caused a good deal of tension in my marriage.
Dave broke her. He claims she just "stopped working." But HE was the one using her when she took her last breath.
On top of that, although Kirby had been with us for nearly 15 years, Dave did not take any extraordinary measures to revive her. It was as if she had been wearing a big, fat D.N.R. tag on her toe!
But the very worst part was that Dave replaced her before her body grew cold. There was a brand new Wind Tunnel sitting in Kirby's closet when I got home from work on that dreaded day.
I tried my best to revive poor Kirby, but too much time had elapsed.
I was not ready to let go. I needed to grieve for a while, so I parked Kirby's body in the garage, where I could see and remember her. Occasionally I would stroke her head as I walked by, where she stood, humiliated, next to the ping pong table.
Meanwhile, the younger, "more attractive" Wind Tunnel attempted to take Kirby's place sucking up dirt in the house.
But she sucked at sucking.
You see, when I got home from work on Tuesday, Dave told me that the Wind Tunnel had broken.
"Already? It's only about 9 months old!" I said. "Kirby lasted 15 years before you killed her."
"Don't tell me you STILL think I had something to do that stupid vacuum cleaner breaking!"
"She got old and you wanted a younger model. You put her out to pasture," I said.
I held back my tears.
"Is that what you're going to do with me?" I asked.
Dave just shook his head.
I volunteered to drop the broken vacuum off at the repair store.
But I didn't say which one.
I loaded Kirby into the back seat of my car and drove her to the hospital...I mean the repair shop.
And guess what! For $50 they're going to make Kirby just like new! It's a combination heart transplant / face lift, I believe.
So, as I said, it's hard not to be smug about the whole situation. But I won't gloat.
Kevin is taking it hard. Apparently, he had a crush on the bitch.