The Return of the Clapper

If you recall, last Christmas I told you about the greatest Christmas gift I had ever received or ever would receive. Santa gave me my Clapper, and all was right with the world.

What I didn’t tell you, however, was the perilous tale of how I managed to break my Clapper mere weeks after getting it. A word to the wise: never vacuum with your Dirt Devil plugged into a Clapper. It’ll work, but as you get closer and closer to the electrical outlet, the Clapper mistakes the moaning and groaning of the vacuum for innocent bouts of applause, causing the vacuum cleaner to turn on and off so much that the fuses and electronic components of the Clapper end up fried. In honor of Clapper #1′s memory, therefore, I have refused to clean my carpet for a year. It would be too traumatic.

This Christmas, though, I got a replacement Clapper. I have yet to hook it up to anything, though I think I’ll just put it on my lava lamp and this neon Corona Extra sign that my Mom stole from a bar for me.

The point of this story, though, is that Santa did it once again. Right when I thought that nothing could be worse because I had to undertake the arduous task of flipping a switch to turn on my lamp, good ole Chris Cringle came through in the clutch to brighten my life. And for that, I am forever grateful.

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