Daily Diatribes

Once upon a time, God invented the vacuum cleaner and He saw that it was good.  It sucked up dirt and dog hair and crushed goldfish crackers and it made the life of woman much easier to bear.  God was pleased with His creation and he sent it forth to multiply and become available at the Sears and Roebuck and the Lowe’s Home Store and other fine retailers near you.

But Satan was displeased and gnashed His teeth in rage because He was affronted by that which made the life of human beings easier.  So He modified the design, making it hard to operate and narrowing the hose so it might easily become clogged by Legos and Polly Pocket shoes and other tiny objects which plague woman.  And He saw that it was bad and He laughed in glee.

And so fast forward to me, a victim of evil Satan, a woman who has owned three vaccum cleaners in the past three years and they were all high end models, I might add.  The first one didn’t actually die, it just wasn’t suited to our new carpet.  It was not self propelled and vacuuming one room left me in a sweat, with aching muscles.  The second one never performed well.  See an earlier entry where Gina surgically aborted the dog hair/paper/pipe cleaner fetus that was growing inside the tube, a science fiction nightmare that surely would have spawned millions of tiny mutant dog hair balls which would then march across America, infecting vacuum cleaner hoses everywhere.

Well, the vacuum worked for a short time after the surgery, then one day, I plugged it in, pushed it twice, it gasped and died.  The motor burned out and even Tim had to concede it was a goner.  He actually carried it down to the curb for the garbage men to pick up.  I have to digress for a moment here to ponder why men frequently want to keep broken appliances.  Tim seems to  think that if you put in a closet for six months and forget about it, it might magically resurrect itself or that he might even get around to fixing it.  Neither of these two events has ever occurred, but he has quite a stash of non working electronics!

So after the last vacuum died, he hemmed and hawed for a week or so, and then, when the dust in the house was so thick we were all wearing gas masks, he went out one day and came home with a new one.  Tim does this a lot.  We need a new appliance, he mysteriously disappears and comes home with a new one.  I think he must have a dealer, some guy named Shorty who hawks appliances in a secluded alley.  All I know is whenever we need a new appliance, he disappears and returns with one, no receipts, no questions asked. 

The new vacuum he came home with is a brand I don’t recognize.  It is a cannister vac, very shiny, copper and black, and with enough attachments to fly to the moon.  It  bears a strong resemblance to R2D2, although with C3PO’s coloring.  Tim was thrilled with it because apparently its suction capability is unmatched, even by the Dyson, which, by the way, is clunky and ugly compared to our shiny space age model!  

Tim was in love with the vacuum cleaner, but I felt it was a piece of crap.  It did not seem to pick up lint, or plastic caps, or action figures or anything else I wanted to vacuum up off the floor.  I have been complaining about it for three months and he has acted like I’ m crazy, because it works fine for him.  I have been assuming we had different standards; you know, I want all the dirt picked up and he wants to see how far the suction power extends.

Until yesterday, when I suddenly discovered I had been pushing the wrong button these last three months.  It’s not fair because not only am I clumsy, I am mechanically inept.  If the world ended tomorrow and I was the only one left, I would be dead within a week because I wouldn’t be able to open cans.  So it should come as no surprise that I never realized I was supposed to push the button marked “power brush” to get the vacuum to pick up dirt.

Well, when I discovered it yesterday, I was like a kid in a candy shop!  For the first time in months, our carpet was being vacuumed properly!  I spent thirty minutes, moving sofas and chairs, vacuuming every square inch, reveling in the heady excitement of my newfound suction power.

Alas, God giveth and God taketh away.  A mere 12 hours after discovering which button to push, I was upstairs vacuuming Abby’s room, and I vacuumed too close to the corner.  She has one of those canopy things suspended from the ceiling and the amazing suction on my new vacuum cleaner grabbed an end and sucked up 3/4 of it before I even knew it was happening. 

I felt an awful lot like Michael Keaton in ”Mr. Mom” as I wrestled that vacuum to the floor, thrashing about, trying to remove the gauzey stuff from the roller brush.  Finally, it occurred to me to TURN IT OFF, which proved very helpful.  Amazing how I can keep my head in a medical emergency, but when faced with a rampaging vacuum cleaner, I fall to pieces.  Once the vacuum was off, I was able extricate the 15 yards of fabric that had been sucked into the roller brush.

The fabric freed, I turned on the mighty “power brush” button and….nothing happened!!  Damn, damn, damn, this kind of stuff always happens to me!!  How would I tell Tim I had killed his pride and joy, his shiny, space age R2D2 vacuum??? 

Fortunately for me, Tim has figured out after 15 years of marriage, that I am a disaster of epic proportions.  He bought the vacuum at a small shop and got a five year warranty!!  For five whole years, every time I inadvertantly vacuum up nails, a screwdriver, or even the dog, I can get it fixed!!  So now I have been excused from vacuuming, so I guess I’ll take a shower and drop the vacuum cleaner at the repair shop.  Good thing I did most of the vacuuming yesterday!