I have a love/hate relationship with vacuum cleaners. Actually, let me clarify that. I have a "willing to acknowledge"/hate relationship. I am willing to acknowledge their usefulness, but it isn't like I get a lot of joy out of them. On the other hand, vacuums probably have a hate/hate relationship with me. Because I kill vacuum cleaners. We're talking smoke-and-sparks-and-fire kill. I am a vacuum destroying goddess.
It doesn't really make sense, though. I'm generally good with gadgets. And I once read that vacuum cleaners were the single most important factor in freeing women from traditional gender roles, so you would think I'd appreciate them more. (I have also read that it was birth control that freed women- I guess we are to assume that the modern woman is a sex fiend with sparkling floors). But I don't appreciate them that much, and that is probably where the trouble lies.
The first vacuum to bite the dust (ha!) at my hands was a bright yellow Eureka Whirlwind. It had performed admirably for many years. Then one day, I decided to clean out the car, something I rarely do. I started by pulling out the junk, toys, and empty Taco Time bags. Next, I made a pile of my daughter's discarded clothing. You would think she rides around naked based on this pile of abandoned sweatpants, t-shirts, and coats.
It was the pile of clothes that would eventually be the demise of my yellow Eureka, specifically one pink sock. I absentmindedly set the vacuum on top of the clothes and pulled out the wand tool to clean crevices. When I turned it on, I saw a flash of pink disappearing into the machine. I quickly searched for a lost sock in the vacuum, but, unable to find it, just assumed I was mistaken. I continued cleaning the car.
Unfortunately, as I cleaned, the elusive pink sock was melting into the gears of the vacuum. I started to notice a nose-searing smokey smell. Then suddenly, sparks shot out like lightning bolts from the hands of Zeus (assuming Greek gods are familiar with Eureka Whirlwinds). Flames exploded from the brush-spinny thingy.
I remained utterly composed, screaming for barely five minutes as I hopped from foot to foot, flapping my hands like a flightless bird with a fresh manicure. Alas, my flapping was all for naught. The vacuum was dead, and one noble sock lost it's life in the line of duty.
We got a new vacuum and I have been trying to treat it nicely. It is a pretty cheap one, which is safest, even though several friends begged us to get a Dyson (I think Dyson is really a cult). And though I am trying to reform myself, I may or may not be responsible for the deaths of one Roomba and one Shop-Vac. But I'm determined not to lose another one. That would just suck.
~Lexie