Monday evening Yooper Stewart and I sat down to a yummy dinner of baked chicken, carrots, and asparagus. We’d just come back from a jog, so our sweaty, disheveled bodies needed some fuel. As soon as my bottom hit the seat, someone knocked on the door.
Mistake #1: I opened the door.
Mistake #2: I didn’t immediately close the door.
Before I knew it, this strange man was walking toward us carrying two boxes. I looked to YS for guidance. Having already eaten his dinner, he shrugged and sauntered into the living room. Well, fine then. If he didn’t mind, I didn’t mind. I stood in the kitchen eating as the Kirby salesman demonstrated his goods.
I can’t even imagine what this poor guy thought. Not only has it been longer than I want to admit since I’ve cleaned my house, but Yooper Stewart presents a unique picture on a good day. Post-run, without warning, he’s in red and blue plaid pajama pants (yes, he ran in those) and a BRIGHT yellow shirt (which he eventually covered with a camouflage hoodie). Having just tortured myself with a run, I didn’t look much better (the hair flying out of my ponytail resembled the rings of Saturn).
Despite our appearances, I could see the hamster wheel turning in YS’s head – as long as we had company, he was going to enjoy it. He grabbed himself a beer, then sat down for the demo.
I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: YS is funny. Sleep deprived, slap-happy YS is hysterical. One of SHYS’s (slap-happy Yooper Stewart) best traits is his loose tongue. You can’t shut the man up. Kirby now knows how long we’ve been married, how long we’ve owned the house, why YS wants acreage, how we picked the cats’ names, YS favorite color car, why the Camaro isn’t running, the details of every job YS has ever worked, and, of course, that I don’t vacuum often enough.
If I had to pick a single, favorite moment of the night, however, it would be when YS confessed that he’s the world’s largest eight year-old child. Here’s how it went:
Kirby: Do you have any questions?
YS: This may sound funny, but it’s serious. How does your vacuum handle LEGOs, cuz I’m an AFOL. You know, Adult Fan of LEGO.
Even as I write this, my head shakes involuntarily and I have to fight the urge to face-palm.
Overall, the evening turned out pretty well. The demo went well (though we didn’t buy a vacuum), YS didn’t have to worry about after-dinner entertainment, and I ended up with a great blog post topic. Though I’m generally not a huge fan of last minute plan changes, this one worked out.