I once told Goon Squad Sarah "I realized that I'm just not interested in housework, so I'm not going to do very much of it."
This means that, when I tell you I'm doing housework? I'm probably reading blog posts. Full disclosure, people.
The thing I did - or didn't do really takes the cake. The lint-covered, fur-lined cake.
My vacuum had not been working well. It is a Sears canister vac and I mostly love it. It has a little powered hand tool that is great for upholstery.
I figured it needed a new belt and a new filter, because it was smelling kind of dusty and leaving little trails of dog fur on the floor. What with one thing an another, it took me a while to face going to the demonic Sears appliance department where Mitch is the only person who knows anything and Mitch isn't speaking to the other employees. When I finally got there, they didn't have any belts and yadayadayada a month (or three) passed.
I finally bought and installed the new belt and filter ALL BY MYSELF I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR AND USE A PHILLIPS-HEAD SCREWDRIVER.
The vacuum still sucked. Or didn't suck, to be more precise. I decided to further disassemble it and take a look.
Oh mah gah, my people. Are you sitting down?
I thought there was a little clog at the base of the tube that connects to the floor cleaner thingy. I took it out on the lawn to shake it out.
Eventually, a 4-foot dirt cylinder emerged like a germ-covered furry dust snake.
The tube that connects the floor cleaner thingy to the hose that leads to the canister had been PACKED FULL of dirt and dog hair and random filth and whatnot.
Sorry I have no photos to prove this. There are some things too horrifying for photos. There aren't many - but this was.
That dusty smell? Yeah, that was dirt flinging itself out of every little seam in my vacuum, trying to escape the fact that my vacuum tube had become a de facto bagless dirt catcher. Except the dirt, instead of being nicely contained, was just kind of hanging out.
I think you must agree that I win at sucking at housework. Just a warning so that you know. If you come over, a Tyvek suit and gloves are advised. Respirator is recommended but optional.
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14 comments:
I think that this is a very heart-warming story. However, you did not mention whether you returned the vacuum to its fully-functioning like-new condition. Or are you saving that for the next episode?
See? You weren't meant to vacuum. You were meant to have a cleaning service.
Dirt snakes are scary.
Steve - the vacuum functions marvelously!
Sarah - obviously. Dirt snakes are freaking disgusting.
At least you don't have a couple of rug rats running around dropping all of the dirt off of their cleats. You'd have to vacuum way more often then.
What's a vacuum cleaner? Is that a new attachment for my sewing machine?
I thought for a moment an actual snake might appear. I have disassembled my vacuum. I always ditch the little filter screen - it just jams up the works.
Whatever you do, don't get a Dyson. I renamed mine - The Humiliator - the clear plastic bagless part always looks like I just vacuumed a field not my living room. Appliances should have more respect, not embarass their patrons.
That is dreadful - you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Until you hear my vacuum story, at which time you will feel like the greatest frickin housekeeper in the universe.
Last year I got the vacuum out to vacuum the one rug in my house, which had not been done in (cough) some time.
I vacuumed for a few minutes and there was a terrible, earthy, dusty, musty...animal odour coming from the vacuum. I continued vacuuming for another few minutes until I could stand it no further.
I took the vacuum outside to empty it to the garbage bin and found inside was packed solid with a whole lot of dust, human hair, dog hair... and a NEST OF TRAUMATISED MICE. Still alive, quivering, shivering and staring up at me with their litte teensy terrified eyes.
Yes, I have a photo.
Yes, I am the world's most awesome housekeeper.
That is dreadful, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Until you hear my vacuum story, at which time you will feel like the greatest frickin housekeeper in the universe.
Last year I got the vacuum out to vacuum the one rug in my house, which had not been done in (cough) some time.
I vacuumed for a few minutes and there was a terrible, earthy, dusty, musty...animal odour coming from the vacuum. I continued vacuuming for another few minutes until I could stand it no further.
I took the vacuum outside to empty it to the garbage bin and found inside a whole lot of dust, human hair, dog hair... and a NEST OF TRAUMATISED MICE. Still alive, quivering, shivering and staring up at me with their litte teensy terrified eyes.
Yes, I have a photo.
Yes, I am the world's worst housekeeper.
I'm super happy though!
One of the stale clichés I live by is: Show me a clean house and I'll show you an not-so-happy person. It sort of resonates, no?
Every time I start to feel all alone in the world, I am reminded of the many clubs I belong in. Certified member here to be sure.
I have never been able to bond with a cleaning device so I buy inexpensive vacuum cleaners so I don't have to discover dirt snakes. Dirt Devils run about $50 and that is a reasonable investment when they give up the ghost every 3 or 4 years.
@sarahontheroad Compared to mice, I got nothin.
Upon further consideration, I am fine with the fact that we only ever see each other in restaurants or at conferences.
OK, my story can't compare to live mice, either, but I'm sharing it anyway. Years ago, Husband blew chunks on the carpeting in our apartment. I didn't know what to do, so I vacuumed it. Over the next few years, every time I used the vacuum (like you, not so often) the odor of barf emanated from the machine. Finally someone asked me something about the bag. "The bag? I've never changed the bag." Uh huh. This was years later, I remind you.
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