Well, the only problem with me vacuuming my house, other than the afore mentioned "vacuuming," is the fact that my vacuum sucks. Or rather, it does NOT suck. It's about as effective at picking up dirt on my carpet as Little Mister's diapers are at containing his poop. No matter how many times I passed that noise-making wand of disappointment over the floor, the only thing it managed to suck is my time. I think I would have had more success sucking stuff off my carpet if I yawned really hard over the dirt particles.
SO. Once Little Mister woke up, I loaded both him and that canister of stale air in the car (making sure to buckle both him AND his car seat into the car- fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice....well, I'll learn sometime) and headed out to return my vacuum. I was prepared to fight with the vacuum gatekeeper- I was going to let them know that I was tired of playing, "What Does the Baby Have in His Mouth Now?" and "Five Second Rule! Oh Darn, There's Cat Hair," followed by, "That's Ok. It was only Two Seconds Anyway." I was ready to pull out the big Mammy Yokum guns and say, "I HAS SPOKEN!" with a really, really stern look on my face if they gave me any grief.
But, all that practicing in front of the mirror and teaching Little Mister how to cough pitifully while batting his incredibly cute eyelashes was for naught. I went in there, told them I needed a new vacuum, and they said, "Ok- no worries." Sweet.
Now, the following I completely blame on an incredibly rough night of waking up with Little Mister FIVE- yes that's right- 1, 2, 3, 4 OH MYLANTA NOT AGAIN! times. I was pretty much a walking zombie, thus the need for a double shot of caffeine at lunch time. Also, I blame it on my lack of an advanced engineering degree.
I took my new vacuum home and joyfully took it out of the box and then spent the next 30 minutes trying to put the darn thing together. The instructions were all written in PICTURES...apparently it was to help those of us who is a wee bit stoopid for written instructions. Or for those who can't speak English. No discrimination here. All you had to do was "CLICK" "CLICK" "CLICK" and then you could happily start issuing evacuation notices to all those dust bunnies that have been taunting you for the last 6 months.
Well, apparently I was much too intellectual for the pictorial Cliff Notes version. I needed the smarty smart words, darn it. Words that would tell me, "If the tube won't let you "CLICK," try twisting it in another direction, dummy," and, "Don't worry if that pole won't go down prior to hearing the "CLICK" because, if you follow the diagram and "CLICK" first, the pole will go down automatically. Dummy."
|I'll give you a click, click, click. Dummy.|
Of course I was frustrated with how long it took me to put this insanely simple thing together, but my spirits were lifted when I saw how powerful that mother sucker was. And then I was grossed out.
Let me back up- I have a play mat in the living room for Little Mister to play with his toys, but he, as of Sunday, has started crawling. (WAHHHHH!!!! My baby is growing too quickly!!) So, I folded up and
So, I've been letting him practice his crawling on the carpet. The brown carpet that hides dirt very, very well. The carpet I had just vacuumed with my previous, wimpy vacuum. The carpet I thought would be fun to vacuum once again with my new, powerful vacuum, just to see if there was anything left behind. Behold- this is after that initial vacuum session:
|Oh my wow- is that the cat in there??|
If only I had turned the page:
|These are not the instructions you were looking for *waves hand*|
Yeah. Well you know what? Shut up.