Here I am, in San Diego. This morning was supposed to be the big day, so we left early this morning for the hospital to watch my daughter make a baby. No, wait. That didn’t sound right. Technically, she already made the baby nine months ago, but I really can’t think about that. What I meant to say is that today she’s busy pushing the kid out. Come to think of it, I don’t want to think about that either. 

Anyway, it appears that the kid is going to be like his mother, stubborn, and since neither I nor my wife wanted to spend the next 2-3 days in the hospital waiting for her to deliver our grandson, we decided to go back to the house and prepare for the new arrival. While she dusted and did laundry, I was tasked with vacuuming the house. I lugged the fifty-pound Dyson in from the garage, and after chasing the cat around with the vacuum hose for a few minutes, I finished vacuuming the first floor, admiring the neat lines I’d made in the carpet. I then proceeded to haul that heavy piece of metal and plastic junk up the stairs, thus doubling the size of my inguinal hernia. 

Once there, I vacuumed the baby room/a.k.a the guest room, careful to move as little out of the way as possible, thus minimizing the square footage I needed to vacuum. Finished, I zipped through the hallway and into the master bedroom, trying not to think about what deeds had been performed there with my little girl. I was nearly finished when I heard a strange whirring sound and noticed a long stringlike object being sucked into the maw of the Dyson. What the hell?

Panicked that I might have sucked up the cat, I quickly turned off the infernal machine and scrambled for the tail-like object dangling from the bottom. But to my chagrin, I pulled out something far worse than a mutilated housecat: after tugging and tugging on the black and white striped object for several terror-filled minutes, I managed to extract a pair of my daughter’s panties! Worse, it was a thong! Horrors.  

Now, I’m normally not queasy, but I’ve been hearing far more about my little girl’s vajayjay in the past few weeks than I ever wanted to hear. Dilated uteri, mucus plugs, membrane stripping, placentas…yuck! This final graphic detail of the secret lives of women sent me over the edge. I hastily kicked the now-wrecked panties under the bed and went downstairs for a beer, leaving the vacuum in the middle of the room for my son-in-law. It’s all his fault anyway.

P.S. If you happen to be searching for an appropriate graphic for your blog post about sucking a pair of panties into a vacuum cleaner, make sure your filtering is set to Safe Search before Googling “panties vacuum cleaner.” There are some strange folks out there.

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