48. Talk About A Sucky Gift
When I was a wee seven years old, my grandmother placed a long skinny box with my name on it under the Christmas tree about a week before the holiday. For the next seven days, my small self drooled over the idea of a play baby stroller folded up in that box, just waiting to be filled with various stuffed animals. On that magical morning, I ripped the box open…and my heart sank. It was a VACUUM CLEANER.
Not a toy one, either. A real-life, serious, small vacuum cleaner. She claimed that she thought it was a great idea because “I loved cleaning when I visited her house.” That’s because you’re basically a hoarder and your house is disgusting, Granny.
