Revision

 Something about the holidays just seems to kick up a little more dirt. Extra feet tracking in the outside world, bits of wrapping and scraps of paper from this and that. Vacuuming moved from being a once a week job to an every couple days type chore. It was during one of these post-festive sweeps that I noticed the switch on the handle of our fancy new sucking machine. One side was labeled "normal" and the other was "Max Suction."

Why, in the name of all that is holy, would I ever want to use the "normal" setting? Ever? 

"Nope. Sorry. This isn't a really big mess, and I really want to take my time making sure I get every last crumb and dust particle by going over this one section of the living room several dozen times."

Of course not. I want Max Suction and I want it now. 

How many times do we, as consumers allow ourselves to be fooled by "regular?" I want maximum strength pain reliever. I want my dishes cleaned with extra grease-cutting scrubbing power. Why would I be happy with a cursory initial brush of my teeth when there is extra whitening available? 

This cautious path toward New and Improved is, of course, always tempered by the looming specter of New Coke. How could an American corporation with so much to lose unleash such a terrible thing on an unsuspecting public? The cynic in me wonders if they had simply started shipping the new formula without making such a big deal about it would anyone have noticed? 

Sure they would. Because at the same instant that we consumers like to have something bigger better faster shoved our way, we are also creepy creatures of habit. Upon reflection, I expect that there are those who are probably very self-conscious about the use of their Max Suction button. They may notice that particular setting tends to rile up the house pets in a way that normal suction does not. Perhaps the weave of certain rugs in their homes don't allow for such violent action from their home appliances. It's only on rare occasions when only that extra little shove over the cliff like a bag of sifted flour finds its way to the floor that such drastic measures become necessary. 

But that's not me. I'm going to leave my vacuum switched into overdrive. And, for the record, I was one of those who will be eternally grateful for the person who designed the upside-down ketchup bottle. Changed my life forever. For the better.