A few weeks ago I was vacuuming, when suddenly, for no apparent reason, our Dirt Devil started to howl in pain, emitting the putrefying scent of impending death throughout the house. I unplugged it, disengaging its life source, and proceeded to operate. I flipped it over exposing its underbelly and snipped off the long red hairs (this was pre-haircut) strangling the roller, which seemed an obvious impediment. Plugged it back in–still ill. I took a screwdriver to it and opened it up, cleaned its insides, and put it back together. No go. Then Joe took over and did the same things I did, which, to my (silent, yet slightly smirky) satisfaction proved no better. We ended up taking it to a repair shop and had to wait a few days before a diagnosis. When we finally got the call, we found it would cost more to fix than it would to buy another of the same type. Fortunately, we have a little battery-charged vacuum-sweeper deal that at least gets the surface dirt, but we knew we had to go look for a suitable replacement.
Have you been in the market for a new vacuum cleaner lately? OH MY GOD!!!!! We went to the appliance section of a trustworthy store with lots of different models, and the salesperson was quite patient and knowledgeable, telling us all the pros and cons of each one. This one’s very heavy, this one has a cheap vulnerable hose, everyone seems to return the Hoovers these days, this one has a canister and washable filter versus a bag and cost as much as your first crappy car. Sounds better, though. (Speaking of Hoovers, did you know in Europe they call the act of vacuuming ‘hoovering’? Those crazy Europeans! Like when we were in Germany and the innkeeper washed our clothes and stopped us on our way out somewhere to ask if we wanted our laundry ‘tumbled’ which didn’t sound like a very good idea to us until she explained—after seeing our puzzled faces–it was putting them in the dryer.)
We were overwhelmed and reluctant to make a decision, knowing only that we didn’t want what we had before because it only lived for seven years or so, and it seemed like they should last longer than that, you know? Plus it didn’t do that great of a job anyway. After hearing some good things about Dyson vacuums from friends, we did a little more research and came to the conclusion that the Dyson 25 Animal might be a good fit for our household. (The pocket book, not so much.) We’ve got some serious hair going on, though, what with two cats, (one a Persian with fur that floats around the house like dandelion puffs–daily) and a son with near-dreads, who hasn’t cut his hair or beard in two-and-a-half years.
After the initial sticker-shock (really, at that price it should suck up our cats, groom them, and spit them out with hypo-allergenic fur), we seem to have bonded with the Animal and are pleased with it so far. When you go from less than 2 amps of power to about 11, it’s a big, happy difference. Our friends with allergies will have an easier time next time they’re over (going to Joe & Lori’s? Remember to pop those pills, lovey!), as will I, and it will be nice not to have to deal with changing those awful bags full of dirt. And it has a cool name and is purple, not that I was ever a victim to marketing…. The vacuum repairman promised to give our old vacuum a proper burial, too. In the dumpster.