That's a quote, from my mother-in-law, God bless her soul. Sue was a funny lady. It was their anniversary last week, and that got me thinking of her ~ they'd have been married 51 years if she were still alive. What reminded me of the vacuum quote was a fight with my own vacuum. It may be dying. Accidentally feeding it a cat toy probably didn't help. It kept turning off.
For some idiotic reason, I own an upright vacuum. I have maybe 100 square feet of carpet in my house, most of that a sculptured Berber, the best design ever for holding on to crap you're trying to suck up. Never, ever buy a sculptured Berber. Most of my vacuuming needs are in corners behind furniture, under furniture, the drapes, the ceiling ~ you know, places where cat fur and cobwebs collect. There is a hose on my vacuum, fully extended it's about six-and-a-half feet, I have eight foot ceilings. Vacuuming cobwebs means lifting my upright 18 inches off the floor. Assuming, of course, that I can get the vacuum directly beneath the cobweb. Usually, I lift the bloody thing at least three feet then stretch to the side. It's like yoga, with weights. And no grace.
So, I'm lugging the darn thing around the house, trying to clean up after the now-miserable cats. Peanut, in a rare show of common sense, high-tails it out of the room . . . oooh! I just got that expression! Shasta, on the other hand, follows me, hissing. I don't get it. She hates the vacuum with a passion unbound, but stays near it. Like Vito Corleone, she seems to believe in keeping her friends close, but her enemies closer.
I went into the bedroom and spotted a centipede (gads, I hate those, ewww) on the wall. "Aha!" I think, "Nothing can live in a vacuum!" So I lifted the vacuum up, reached across the dresser with the hose and sucked up that bug. Feeling proud of my martial skills, I carry that vacuum around sucking up cobwebs, until I realize that the uninhabitable vacuum probably refers to space, not a Dirt Devil.
I put the vacuum down. Not picking that thing up again. How long can a centipede live in a vacuum bag? Aw, crap! That cat toy was filled with nip. Do centipedes eat catnip? There's a lot of nip. The toy was at least as big as the bug. If it eats all that catnip, it will be huge. It'll be a jungle sized centipede. I really don't want to change that bag. The vacuum is back in the basement. It'll be awhile before I can touch it again. It was behaving badly. Maybe it's time to buy a new vacuum. We could just throw the old one out.
For some idiotic reason, I own an upright vacuum. I have maybe 100 square feet of carpet in my house, most of that a sculptured Berber, the best design ever for holding on to crap you're trying to suck up. Never, ever buy a sculptured Berber. Most of my vacuuming needs are in corners behind furniture, under furniture, the drapes, the ceiling ~ you know, places where cat fur and cobwebs collect. There is a hose on my vacuum, fully extended it's about six-and-a-half feet, I have eight foot ceilings. Vacuuming cobwebs means lifting my upright 18 inches off the floor. Assuming, of course, that I can get the vacuum directly beneath the cobweb. Usually, I lift the bloody thing at least three feet then stretch to the side. It's like yoga, with weights. And no grace.
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| Would you mess with this cat? She'll protect us from the evil vacuum monster. |
So, I'm lugging the darn thing around the house, trying to clean up after the now-miserable cats. Peanut, in a rare show of common sense, high-tails it out of the room . . . oooh! I just got that expression! Shasta, on the other hand, follows me, hissing. I don't get it. She hates the vacuum with a passion unbound, but stays near it. Like Vito Corleone, she seems to believe in keeping her friends close, but her enemies closer.
I went into the bedroom and spotted a centipede (gads, I hate those, ewww) on the wall. "Aha!" I think, "Nothing can live in a vacuum!" So I lifted the vacuum up, reached across the dresser with the hose and sucked up that bug. Feeling proud of my martial skills, I carry that vacuum around sucking up cobwebs, until I realize that the uninhabitable vacuum probably refers to space, not a Dirt Devil.
I put the vacuum down. Not picking that thing up again. How long can a centipede live in a vacuum bag? Aw, crap! That cat toy was filled with nip. Do centipedes eat catnip? There's a lot of nip. The toy was at least as big as the bug. If it eats all that catnip, it will be huge. It'll be a jungle sized centipede. I really don't want to change that bag. The vacuum is back in the basement. It'll be awhile before I can touch it again. It was behaving badly. Maybe it's time to buy a new vacuum. We could just throw the old one out.
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