I went to lunch with a co-worker today. Going to lunch with others is not unusual. What I asked was. But, much to my surprise, I was glad I asked. I found it!

When we returned to the office, I mentioned my find and, to my surprise, I found an even better one. The search was not for me but for him but I was as excited as if it were for me. I reached for the phone.

Yes, Mr. Philately was in. I waited….impatiently….until I heard his voice on the line. I assumed the receptionist had introduced me and I took my wifely prerogative. I jumped right in without even an “it’s me.”

“I found it!” I told him. “I found you a dead vacuum cleaner. You can have it on the condition you don’t give it back.”

My excitement was more than matched. You would have thought the man won the lottery. At that moment, the dead vacuum was the best present I could have thought of. “And if I get it tomorrow,” he explained. “They’ll have something to do.”

Some men pretend not to know what a vacuum cleaner is. A few will demonstrate how to use one. Even fewer will wish for one. But I am willing to bet that most of the very few men who crave a vacuum cleaner want a hopelessly broken one and I am lucky enough to be married to one.

Mr. Philately is not just any man. He’s technical director for the middle school play and in this version of “The Wizard of Oz,” the Wicked Witch of the West gossips with a friend who has the latest thing: a vacuum cleaner to ride. And now she has one, at least after the stage crew removes the guts to make it lighter.

Now, if only I could find him a beat-up, drop-leaf table.

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