Two weeks ago I was vacuuming up the Daily Crumbs in the playroom. It seemed simple enough…it was just a little pile of had-been PopTarts. I love PopTarts - is there anyone who doesn’t? But the crumbs weren’t mine. If I had been the one eating the PopTarts, there sure as hell wouldn’t have been any leftovers. Anyway, while vacuuming up crumbs, I somehow managed to suck up a damp paper towel. I have no idea where it came from. Who left this here and why is it on the playroom rug? Someone is going to be in Big Trouble. I know it wasn’t me, because when I dried my hands on a paper towel 30 seconds ago, I would have done the Right Thing and thrown it away. Wouldn’t I? Yes, I am sure I would have. I did. I DID. The damp paper towel that SomeoneWhoIsGonnaBeInBigTrouble left on the rug could not resist the powers of suction, and before I even knew what was happening, smoke was pouring out of my beloved Bissell!
I can’t lie to y’all. After all, this is The M-bellished Truth. I loooooove to vacuum. And I loooooove my vacuum cleaner. I could write a tacky romance novel about my Bissell and me. It is the only vacuum cleaner I have ever truly loved. The minute we met, I was seduced by its see-through bagless chamber, its multiple HEPA filters, and its endearing swivel wheels. I could write a whole three chapters about the attachments alone! And oh, to see all that dirt, dog hair, and dust all trapped in the chamber with no means of escape. It makes me feel, well, powerful. Like those women in the 1950’s cleaning product ads who had bandanas on their hair and flexed their muscles and looked directly at the camera with a look that said Don’t Mess With Me. That’s who I am when I vacuum. Sans the bandana. (I learned a long time ago not to tie things near or in my curly locks. It only invites trouble.) When Apple Pie and I got married, I moved in and brought all My Stuff. All My Stuff is still piled in boxes in various locations around the house. I am working on it but there is an issue of limited closet space in our charming 1940’s house. People back then didn’t have as much Stuff. But you are making me digress and I want to get back to talking about my Bissell. The Bissell was part of My Stuff, so naturally, it came with me. I would never have even considered the thought of giving it away just because The Pie already had a “vacuum cleaner.” He didn’t have my Bissell. One day he saw me vacuuming with my Bissell and said “Why are you using THAT? My vacuum cleaner is much better.”
HUGE RED FLAG, WHAT HAVE I DONE, WHO IS THIS FREAK THAT I MARRIED? CALL A THERAPIST, AN ATTORNEY and MY MOTHER. And BACK UP BUDDY BEFORE YOU GET CLOBBERED WITH AN UPHOLSTERY ATTACHMENT TO THE SIDE OF THE HEAD.
I think it took me three weeks to get over it, but I did. Forgiveness is the first step. Or maybe it’s Anger, I get them confused. Anyway, since that day, we have agreed to disagree. He has his “vacuum cleaner” and I have my Bissell. I hope all potential brides are reading this, because they need to know that that’s just the way it goes sometimes in a marriage. He is loyal to Dukes; I am a Hellman’s gal til the day I die. He uses Colgate; I have sensitive teeth. He has his “vacuum cleaner;” I have my Bissell. And it’s okay, really it is.
Needless to say, I considered smoke pouring from the Bissell a 911-worthy emergency, although Apple Pie begged to differ and said I was NOT to call emergency services from the household phone listed in his name. The Pie can be so difficult at times.
So there I was, in the midst of a smoky emergency. Clouds of it just billowing out of what seemed like every crack and crevice of my precious cleaning machine. And that SMELL. You know The Smell. Anyone who has ever burned up a vacuum cleaner can recall The Smell. In fact, The Smell is so bad that the flames and smoke are a very minor issue compared to The Smell. You’ll do anything to stop it. You know you have to get the appliance turned off IMMEDIATELY. Which is extremely difficult due to the Disappearing Power Button Phenomenon. I can’t explain the physics of it, but The Phenomenon only occurs when an appliance is on fire and requires immediate shut-off. You are fumbling for the power button, hands racing to disengage this smoky, stinky, fiery monster and suddenly The Phenomenon occurs. There is no power button. Nothing anywhere on the entire appliance that is labeled “on/off” or “press here to turn on/off” or “power” or “push here you idiot” or ANYTHING! You used it when you started this whole business but it is gone now. Phenomenal wouldn’t you say? The only thing left to do is jerk the cord right out of the outlet quickly and with every ounce of strength you can muster. Which, I might add from personal experience, can cause several types of bodily injury.
My beloved Bissell now sits in our storage shed. I can’t bring myself to throw it away and I am terrified to plug it in. And I am having to use the “vacuum cleaner.” If that isn’t enough, I’ll have you know that, on that very SAME DAY while drying the unruly mop on top of my head, flames began to shoot out of my hair dryer. Which resulted in another Phenomenon and another cord jerk. Did I mention that day was my birthday?
I celebrated by eating a tomato sandwich made with Hellman’s followed by a good brushing with Sensodyne.
And that’s the truth, y’all.
E-mail me a story of how you burned up an appliance. I’ll post some here. Think back, now. Toaster? Curling Iron? Computer? Spill it. You may just make me feel better. I’ll judge the best one. Winner gets a cheap-ass canister vacuum and Apple Pie will deliver it personally. PopTart crumbs not included.
