Love-hate relationship

May 16, 2011
My vacuum and I have a love-hate relationship. I remember begging everyone to get me a new vacuum for my birthday or Christmas or my anniversary. Really, any major gift-giving occasion. It took years before I finally convinced Jeff that if he did in fact buy me a new vacuum, that I wouldn't divorce him or at minimum never speak to him again. And when the birthday finally came and I got not-any-old-run-of-the-mill vacuum but a brand spankin' new $400 Dyson... wow! I was pumped!

And so my Dyson and I went on our happy little way, spending every Saturday morning together, as the routine was to clean the house that day.

Well, fast forward five or so years, no cleaning routine whatsoever, and two kids, and the Dyson and I see each other at lot. Too much. Like after every single meal! Seriously, it's a Dyson! It shouldn't be subjected to sucking up spilled rice, peas, corn, noodles, graham cracker crumbs, and smooshed cereal from breakfast. It's way more powerful than that! Some nights I think it tries to hide from me just so it doesn't have to get drug out of the closet to vacuum up spilled food again. But then again, I'm probably the one who is really trying to hide from it.