Move over Dyson Animal! I have the strongest vacuum in the world!! And yes, readers, I realize this post has nothing to do w/the wonders of an Antarctic-like climate or the “fun” of hiking among the bears, but I feel my vacuum is a household tool that bears explanation…it’s like its own being anyway and since I got it from my landlord, who, incidentally, just happens to be Canadian, we’ll consider this yet another legitimate “adventure” being evaluated by the transplanted Phoenician.
First and foremost: a bit of history. When Danielle and I moved to our newly rented place (not the first one, the second–yes, we’ve had quite a time up here!), our landlord showed us where the vacuum attachments were located. I say vacuum attachments because we are lucky enough to have central vac–the greatest invention if your occupation just happens to be: The Official Stay-At-Home Mom, Chef, Secretary, Courier, Treasurer, Chauffeur and lastly, House Cleaner. A rewarding, yet busy career, but if you have central vac, well then, life is just THAT much better.
Where was I? Oh yes. The attachments. Well, the attachment that mattered the most, the one that looks like an actual vacuum (great for hardwood floors, carpets, even tile) ended up being a dud. Didn’t work at all. So we had it replaced.
The day our landlord dropped off the seemingly innocent, shiny black vacuum, with its stylish red “Hoover” across the top–I didn’t think anything of it. Just thanked him, placed it with the other attachments and moved on.
A few days later (to be truthful, it was probably a few weeks later), I grasped the new vacuum with cat-like reflexes and tremendous dexterity (two traits you must have to be a Stay-At-Home Mom, House Cleaner, Chef…you get the picture.) and attached it, expertly, might I add, to the Mustang of all Vacuums (referring to its sleekness of course).
Do you recall my story about the Great Pooper Scooper? Well, the moment I plugged in the central vac, this same feeling crept over me. It was unbelievable. The vacuum fired up, sounding like a well-oiled engine (see Mustang comment) and off it went! It wasted no time! It vacuumed and vacuumed–leaving no prisoners, not one speck of dust or dog hair or pebble or crumb!! I was amazed! It was incredible!
You might’ve noticed I said when I plugged it in that the vacuum just “went”. When I say it “went”, I mean to say the vacuum cleaner literally went off on its own, dragging me behind it, telling me who was running the show. It didn’t matter to Hoover who I was or what my title in the Household Hierarchy, it started up and wasted no time! Desperately, I attempted to control it, but I ended up looking like a Muppet being dragged from one end of the living room to another–Hoover in the lead, Hoover obviously in charge.
Nowadays, when I fire up Hoover, the color drains from our dog’s face, his eyes open wide and he makes a quick getaway, his nails sliding on the hardwood floor as he runs in place, trying to claw his way out of the room. Fear overtakes him as I’m certain he imagines Hoover coming for him like Freddy Kreuger. Sometimes I get the same look, but I haven’t got a choice…I just hold on tight, make sure Jack is out of the way and let Hoover do his magic. I often think about what it’s like for the other attachments, I bet when Hoover goes back to his place…he arrogantly casts a look at all the other attachments and says: And that, my fellow attachments, is how its done.
Until next time: Don’t forget to replace or empty vacuum filters.