In our old house I didn't mind vacuuming so much. Our old house was small and I could plug the vacuum into the dining room outlet and vacuum the entire ranch without moving the plug. In this house I can't even vacuum the entire living room/dinning room area without moving the plug. (Our house isn't that big, just bigger than our last place.). I love a lot of things about this house, but I really hate vacuuming it.
So, as I vacuumed today, I found myself composing a letter to our vacuum in my head. It went something like this:
I hate you. I try not to waste energy hating anything but I just cannot take it anymore. I hate that you are so heavy my back aches within moments of starting to use you. I hate that, on our hard floors, you seem do blow the dirt around instead of sucking it up unless I go over the same spot 97 times and even then you miss things. I hate that you are so loud you terrify the children and my ears ring as though I've been front row at a rock concert after using you. I hate that your attachment hose is so short I have to lift your heavy a** off the floor with one hand, while extending the hose with the other hand, to get the cobwebs off of our decidedly normal height ceilings. I hate that, when stowed, one end of your hose tends to come loose and flail around like some nearly severed appendage. I hate that your locking mechanism is broken so I stand you up, let go, and about fifty percent of the time you fall back with an alarming crash, often hitting one of my feet. I hate that you are just barely tall enough NOT to reach into the little area between the edge of the kitchen cabinets and the floor and I am forced to use your stupid hose if I want to get at all the gunk. I hate that your vacuum bags never seem to fit quite right. If I could sue you for causing back strain and hearing loss and psychological trauma I would.
And I know, I know, I have electricity and running water and I should be thankful I'm not sweeping a dirt floor, oblivious to the locusts which are about to eat our crops and lead to a famine of massive proportions. BUT I still hate you, Vacuum, and I want to fire you, but I'm not sure we can afford to replace you with a better performing model.
It's been over six years, Vacuum, and I kind of wish you'd just die already so we could all move on. Clearly this relationship isn't working.
You see, I had to turn to something as silly as composing vacuum hate mail because it was the only way take my mind off the outrageous volume I was dealing with. Just was I was thinking the part about wishing the vacuum would die my hand felt something funny on the cord.
I looked down and realized an entire chunk of the protective sheath (is that the right word?) around the wires of the cord was just missing! And we all know it is not safe to use appliances with damaged cords, right? I did a temporary duct tape repair so I could finish waging war on the dust bunnies, but we all know that was a very, very short-term fix. I told Matt about the cord and...
It's time for a new vacuum baby!
We are going to try to get one soon, as in next weekend, so please, please leave your vacuum advice in the comments because, much to my delight, Matt seems to agree that it might be prudent to spend more than $99 on the next vacuum. Dare we discuss Dysons? Are they worth it?
Pertinant vacuum circumstance facts:
- We need a vacuum that can handle hard floors and carpet.
- We have a dog, but he doesn't shed (and we'll never have shedding pets because of allergies). He does, however, drag all manner of debris in from the yard, like small bits of leaves.
- Harper (and Michael will join her soon) is prone to leaving boulder sized crumbs behind when she eats. (BTW, what is the matter with our dog that he doesn't attend to those?)
- I would like a vacuum to be significantly lighter and quieter than my current model. Unless it weighs as much as several bowling balls and sounds like a rock concert it won't be difficult to improve these areas.