How often do you think about your vacuum?
I think about mine often because I detest it. It sits in the corner and mocks me because its temperament is akin to a rabid skunk.
I’ve always had a tempestuous relationships with vacuum cleaners. My mother would vacuum when she was angry, that livid, wild-eyed seething rage. Why dragging a Filter Queen over pile carpets and wood floors was a therapeutic release I’ll never know.
The sound of her yanking the little canister out of the closet would strike terror in me. She’d vacuum for hours, muttering to herself. Hating dirt, hating life, hating men and their penises and hating herself.
For those not alive in the 1950s, Filter Queens were the status vacuum to have. They looked like R2D2 festooned with brushes and attachments. The hose connected at the side. That hose connection would take the brunt of her anger because she torqued it and floor attachments like an Indiana Jones bullwhip. Every once and awhile she’d kick it over for good measure. That vacuum lasted more than 20 years before it gave up the ghost due to a divorce in 1970.
I don’t vacuum when I’m pissed. I overeat and drink like normal people do. I do, however, mutter at the cat.
I’ve owned Eureka and Bissell vacuums. I had a Royal at the house in Highlands Ranch and a Kirby named Jaws at the house on Joan Street. Right now I have a Dyson.
Dyson’s are highly recommended if you have pets. They suck up animal hair and leave a spotless floor complete with a flourish of superiority. My daughter has one and she has a houseful of dogs and cats. Hers works great.
I bought one because Nina’s hair was so fine that regular vacuums couldn’t even get close to sucking it up. Friends stayed away because the hair was so bad and I was powerless until Dyson.
I paid good money for it at Best Buy. It can with absolutely no customer service and you had to assemble the damn thing. For $600, it can assemble itself.
After using this fussy piece of machinery I’m not a huge fan. Oh, I’d love to have one of those $1,100 Royal vacuums that after it’s done it’ll do your nails and make lasagna for dinner.
On good principle I’m not spending $1,100 on a vacuum. I’ve already spent $600 on the my current vacuum. My first car cost $50 and it ran better than the Dyson.
Today I had to relent and give the Dyson some care. I went to a vacuum store in Evergreen and asked for a belt for it because when vacuums stop sucking it’s usually the belt. Dyson’s don’t use belts as the store owner politely pointed out. He did offer to sell me one of the acres of homeless vacuums in his showroom. If he’d put them in cages like at an animal shelter, they’d probably move faster. I declined and left.
I started to take the Dyson apart and realized I needed to friend to help me with this. YouTube is everyone’s very informative friend.
I checked out a few videos, including ones by Dyson that are done with no sound. Just slow moving hands carefully and silently articulating right-tighty-lefty-loosey.
I finally found a video done by a mom. I know this because she starts talking to a child in the middle of her video. I was about to turn it off but she starts taking the vacuum apart with such skill. It’s easy to spot someone who know what they’re doing. I watched. She led met through all the steps to clean my wayward Dyson and bring it back into the fold. Steps included cleaning the filters, the canister thingy, the cylinder thingy, the beater bar and the hoses. I also got rid of all the cat pee. Apparently Buzz hated the Dyson as much as I do.
Here’s her video:
I still hate my Dyson but at least it’s clean.