Every once in awhile, and by this I mean every great once in awhile, some company offers me a gift if I promote their product on my blog. Barbecue equipment, patio knick-knacks, salt. I told a blogging friend I've resisted because it seems so cheesy.
But the real truth is, no one has coughed up anything I want. I'd chop my integrity into bite-sized bits and feed it to the cat if anyone offered me a vacuum cleaner.
I break vacuums as regularly as I used to break retainers. Tonight I cracked the handle on my Bissel, and not just any Bissel. This one is, was, the Extended Suction Lift Off Revolution Press And Grab Works Like A Magnet On Pet Hair Easy Empty Bissel.
Every two years I spend hundreds on a new vacuum. I've tried them all -- stick, upright, canister, bag, bagless. And it's not like I abuse them; they get plenty of time off. If you're a vacuum in my house, almost every day's a holiday.
My mom had the same Hoover for twenty years and it never went out on disability. She got it for her anniversary, I believe. All I ever got for an anniversay was jewelry. Try sucking up dog dander with a tennis bracelet.
Not that I'd scorn any gift. Unless it happens to be barbecue tongs, a plastic sundial, or salt.
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