The morning after I flew back home for spring break, I found myself fumbling around the kitchen cabinets for breakfast food that didn’t boast high-fiber content. It was an unwelcome reminder that my 60-year-old parents, unlike Café Mac, do not accommodate my penchant for sugar cereals at every meal. As I stood sleepily weighing whether to make it a Wheat Chex or Total morning, my mom came into the kitchen with a proud bounce in her walk, like a kitten walking away from using the litter box for the first time. She couldn’t wait to show me what she had in store and the excitement was intriguing. Was it a surprise for me, a welcome-back present for her little boy? Although I don’t have any brothers or sisters, I was never the spoiled child given all the presents that would have gone to them on Christmas morning. But maybe that was all about to change.

My mom directed me upstairs and I was ushered into a room while she retrieved something from the hall closet. As I heard a rather substantial object being wheeled across the floor I was puzzled: car keys can fit quite nicely into a small box and be carried in the hand. But reality quickly set back in and I opened my eyes to see my mother’s new vacuum: A sexy, little European number. From its long graceful neck to its smooth petite body, there was no denying the beauty of “Solaris.” A little shaken off-kilter, I sat quietly as my mother began to rave about all it had to offer: ergonomic handles, pivoting head, expertly-crafted nozzles tucking away behind a seamless door. Well, fuck, the Europeans had done it again. The “Solaris” was perfect. I wasn't quite sure what to say as my mom stood pretending to vacuum, showing what minimal impact it had upon her wrist, so I told her how proud I was she was taking a stand against the traditional role of housewife imposed upon women. She couldn't hear me as she was too busy demonstrating how one could pause from vacuuming, and simply clip the nozzle to the side and go do other things, to which I bitterly suggested, “like cook meals for your husband, or chauffeur the kids to the mall.” I guess I was just jealous because she loved her new vacuum cleaner more than me. Actually, it’s a good thing I didn’t have siblings because I would have smothered them all in their sleep on Christmas Eve. I was meant to be an only-child.