So while I was gone, my parents bought a Dyson Animal vacuum cleaner. This thing freakin' rules. It glides along the floor instead of sticking to it so hard you feel you have to shove it along, it's rather quiet for a vacuum cleaner, and it leaves your carpets sparkling clean. And every time I say to myself, "Self, I think it would be really cool if this vacuum cleaner did this and such," I start toying around with it and BY GOLLY IT DOES. I tell you, this vacuum cleaner makes vacuuming as fun as Strong Bad makes drawing.
But having a freakin' sweet vacuum cleaner isn't all fun and games. For instance, yesterday, I decided that I was going to go on a room cleaning spree. I've been gone for two years, I don't think anyone's ever vacuumed under my bed, and there is so much accumulated shiz on my shelves that I can't even tell what color they are under all the stuff on them. Oh, and I wanted to put my CD's up on my chest of drawers instead of downstairs on the bookcase. So I get to cleaning, and my new elders quorum presidency stops by, and I get back to cleaning, and I finally get to the point where everything is off my shelves and I am ready to vacuum them off. (So much dust!) So I walk on over to the closet where we keep the vacuum, and I open up the door, and the vacuum is not there. Mom, where's the vacuum? Oh, Cara took it home with her so she could vacuum her house. Way to go, vacuum thief! (In her defense, her vacuum cleaner is apparently broken.) So, pitfall #1: people will abscond with your vacuum cleaner if you aren't continually vigilant, watching it like a hawk watches the little mouse he's about to dive on, or like my nephew Sam watches the new remake of American Gladiators, which is to say, intently and with rapt concentration. It is now about 10:00pm, but I am in Room Cleaning Mode 3000TM, and I cannot rest, I cannot sleep for an instant, until I finish vacuuming off my shelves.
So I decided to get the vacuum from my sister's house. I make the short trip over there, and she hasn't yet vacuumed the rooms she wanted to vacuum with it, so being the kind, considerate and caring individual that I am, I cracked the proverbial whip and made her vacuum them so I could finish what I was doing. Just kidding, I vacuumed most of her kitchen, but then she took over. (Aside: Who puts carpet in their kitchen? Crazy people who add a kitchen on in the mid-70's and cover it with hideous yellow-flowered wallpaper, that's who.)
I finally got my shelves vacuumed off and all the crap off my bed and went to sleep (after, I should mention, I watched Vantage Point at my sister's house). The next morning (being this morning), I woke up and went back to the cleaning that I didn't get around to last night, ie. vacuuming the floor and getting all the marks off the walls.
Pitfall #2: When you have a freakin' sweet vacuum cleaner that totally works really well, it pulls a disgustingly voluminous amount of dust, dirt and unidentifiable filth out of your carpets, and dumps it into a clear container on the front of your vacuum. Ew? At least you can tell it's working, I guess. I would say that between the regular floor, the area under my bed, and the dust refugee camp that is my closets, I got a dust ball that was probably equivalent in volume to your average cantaloupe, or perhaps a small watermelon. It's hard to say, because our freakin' sweet vacuum cleaner has an easy-empty feature (pleasure!) that I employed several times during the vacuuming marathon.
But overall, I would say that the pleasures of having a clean carpet and getting it clean in an exceedingly cool manner FAR outweigh the pitfalls of vacuum thievery and accumulated grossness.