I saw the light, had a vision, but on reflection realised it was crap

At the beginning of this month, I wrote about how I inadvertently tried to kill myself with my vacuum cleaner. I got out my trusty wire strippers, cut and rejoined the wires, changed the fuse, then attempted to switch it on, but found the motor had blown. Sorting that out is way beyond my capabilities, although I have no doubt that if Significant Other was still here, he’d have stripped it down and there’d have been vacuum cleaner guts sitting on the kitchen table for weeks a few days.

I also said that I’d be buying another Dyson to replace it in an attempt to appease Karma. After carefully perusing my options, I decided to laugh in the face of Karma and opted not to buy a Dyson. (I know, I know, dodgy ground, but heh, bring it on Karma. Bring. It. On.)

My new sexaay vacuum cleaner is a Bissell, and it also just happens to be my favourite colour – blue. But again, as with the previous vacuum, the colour in no way influenced my choice to buy it. Although I’ve now decided I must try and find the same colour nail varnish for my toenails it really is a lovely shade of blue.

After getting it home, making a speech on opening the box (including the words, ‘I hereby declare this box open. May Karma sod off and may all dust be collected’), I switched it on to use it.

To my amusement, I discovered it has a headlight to show me the way.

A light?

Seriously?

No way!

Yes way.

Oh wait, this means in the event of a total, simultaneous lightbulb failure in my house, instead of using it as a torch (because let’s face it, it would be rather unwieldy picking it up to brandish about), I can vacuum when it’s dark. I’ll be the one calmly saying, ‘It’s okay, don’t panic, the cleaner has a headlight, therefore I can, and must, vacuum before I change any lightbulbs.’ *snort*

Anyway, I spent a few minutes vacuuming the living room, then looked at the container holding the collected crap which, being bagless, is on show to everyone, then laughed with shocked horror. In the words of Janice from the tv show Friends:

Oh. My. God.

It’s a bit of an animal as far as carpets are concerned and spared no mercy. I couldn’t believe the amount of dust and cat fur it pulled out of the carpet – there was so much it filled it up. Within mere minutes - how embarrassing.

Hang on.

Just in case I’ve given you the impression that we’ve been wading through the house knee-deep in cat fur, let me put you straight – we don’t. However, given the amount of fur that got extracted from just one carpet, I could start my own cottage industry – knitted cat fur scarves. At a push I could probably stretch to matching hat and gloves.

Ooh, potentially quite lucrative maybe? Er, unless you have an allergy to fur, in which case I’m sorry, but for health and safety reasons (and to prevent me being sued for your continual sneezing, itching and in extreme cases, potentially life-threatening breathing problems) I wouldn’t be able to sell them to you.

Crap.

Ah well, on reflection I’ll consign that particular idea to the recycling bin part of my brain, where it deservedly belongs to be honest.

Not only that, it means I won’t be creeping up on either of the cats to vacuum them for extra fur. Now before anyone jumps down my throat, I’d like to state that I wouldn’t actually do that, not with the new vacuum, but I’m not saying I’ve never done it. Years ago I had a vacuum cleaner with a low setting on it and Dopey would allow me to vacuum her.

Kinky. Or strange. Or both.

Oh, to be clear, I’m referring to the cat, not myself.

Just sayin’.