Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Maharishi of the Vacuum Cleaner
I would like to say that my cats taught me to be terrified of vacuum cleaners. I'd like to say it but it's simply not true.
No one actually cleaned much of anything in my childhood home. We lived in a pleasantly shabby small house carefully insulated by mountains of books. So once every five years or so, someone would put some effort into finding the floor and once found, vacuuming it. Of course that took in my case, huge quantities of ice cream. In my mother's case, similar quantities of gin. Either way we never faced it chemically unimpaired. It may explain why she thought it was funny to chase me around the room with it. It may also explain my complete dread of them.
But at a certain point you decide that your childhood is past. The floor is in shambles and it would be nice to see what color the rug is. So I went on the search for the vacuum I wouldn't hate.
This was not easy. We went through a Royal, several Hoovers, a Eureka canister that lasted a week.We have a dog cookie under every rug and mattress and wisps of thread escaped from the studio. Some of them whole and some in crumbs. Admittedly, this is a hard life for any vacuum cleaner.
I was bemoaning the Eureka when Pat Winter told me she'd gotten a Bissell that pretty much ate babies for lunch for $44 at Walmart. Desperate with the image of my new godbaby wading through the crumbs, fur and crunchies, I bought one.
OMG did this thing whirl fur and fluff around. So it was with tears in my eyes I watched it die today.It was almost a whole month old. Could I find the receipt? Of course not. So I went online, and found the manual. While I was looking for the belt, one of the hoses fell off spewing crumblies everywhere. When I looked in the hose there was a small plastic bottle.
What could it be? I poked at it with broom handles, my croquet mallet handle, the fire poker, the skewers we use for roasting marshmallows. It finally gave it up for particularly long mop handle.
What else could it have been? It was a bottle of sewers aid!
So I am now, by right of my passage Maharishi of the Vacuum Cleaner.Chief bottle washer too. And I know where I put the Sewer's Aid. Life is good. Now where did I put the floor?
No one actually cleaned much of anything in my childhood home. We lived in a pleasantly shabby small house carefully insulated by mountains of books. So once every five years or so, someone would put some effort into finding the floor and once found, vacuuming it. Of course that took in my case, huge quantities of ice cream. In my mother's case, similar quantities of gin. Either way we never faced it chemically unimpaired. It may explain why she thought it was funny to chase me around the room with it. It may also explain my complete dread of them.
But at a certain point you decide that your childhood is past. The floor is in shambles and it would be nice to see what color the rug is. So I went on the search for the vacuum I wouldn't hate.
This was not easy. We went through a Royal, several Hoovers, a Eureka canister that lasted a week.We have a dog cookie under every rug and mattress and wisps of thread escaped from the studio. Some of them whole and some in crumbs. Admittedly, this is a hard life for any vacuum cleaner.
I was bemoaning the Eureka when Pat Winter told me she'd gotten a Bissell that pretty much ate babies for lunch for $44 at Walmart. Desperate with the image of my new godbaby wading through the crumbs, fur and crunchies, I bought one.
OMG did this thing whirl fur and fluff around. So it was with tears in my eyes I watched it die today.It was almost a whole month old. Could I find the receipt? Of course not. So I went online, and found the manual. While I was looking for the belt, one of the hoses fell off spewing crumblies everywhere. When I looked in the hose there was a small plastic bottle.
What could it be? I poked at it with broom handles, my croquet mallet handle, the fire poker, the skewers we use for roasting marshmallows. It finally gave it up for particularly long mop handle.
So I am now, by right of my passage Maharishi of the Vacuum Cleaner.Chief bottle washer too. And I know where I put the Sewer's Aid. Life is good. Now where did I put the floor?
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10 comments:
Great Story. The vacuum that ate the Sewers Aid and lived to tell the tale.
Vacuums eyes are bigger than their throats poor things!
You have passed your small appliance test !!!! awesome !!! <3 Diana
heh, as a fellow veteran of the finding the floor once every 5 years, I can totally relate!
and in my case the solution was a Eureka (appropriate -- as in "Eureka, I found the floor!")
I haven't tried to vacuum up a bottle yet, but screws, beads and ornament hooks have been this month's diet
I am your evil twin in an alternate universe. My vacuum had to be repaired and I FREAKED OUT OF CONTROL. I threatened Sears repair men, yelled at my husband and grandchildren for all those messy things they do, and picked threads out of my sewing room carpet with my fingers. All is well now. The vacuum is back. So...you see, things could be worse.
Vacuum....Vacuum...???? What's a Vacuum?
OMGoodness Ellen!!! I am so over-organized and NEAT that I can't even relate...but your story is pretty hillarious and makes me want to come organize your house. I HATE cleaning though...so...hmmmm.
Hilarious, Ellen! Love,
Tina
Too funny. I would love to find a vacuum that didn't build my biceps just pulling it around the house and gave me a clean floor for all the effort!
I love my Rainbow vacuums. I have had them since 1966. They vacuum into water so no recirculated dust, though the hepa filters probably take care of that now. It has its own set of wheels and is a breeze to pull around. However if you don't like emptying out the dirty water and rinsing the container it won't be for you. My childhood home housekeeping/vacuuming was on a par with Ellen's. I follow that schedule happily, but my two neatnik sisters are appalled.
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