I never thought I’d say this, but I’m in love…with my vacuum.
Our apartment has mostly hard floors. The humans who live in it have dark hair. The puppy has blonde tail hairs that are so long, that if I ever saw an actual blonde woman’s hair on David’s coat, I wouldn’t blink. The hair on Stella’s knees must be made of velcro because it picks up all kinds of mulch, grass clippings, and dead leaves. These particles magically release themselves from Stella’s fur the second she crosses our threshold.
I hate walking around barefoot and feeling crumbs. I hate the tumbleweeds that collect along baseboards.
And that’s why I love my vacuum. It is light and cordless and mounts on the wall, so it is easy to use on a whim. It is quieter than a typical vacuum, and I think, more powerful. It has all kinds of attachments that allow me to clean the floors, clean the car, clean the upholstry, the bed, and the corners. And it maneuvers through small spaces with ease!
Although this Dyson is more expensive than most vacuums, I use it daily and feel cleaner than ever before. Its dirt-catching canister empties shocking amounts of crud straight into the trash can. Its filter is easily washed and its rollers are removable so tangled hairs and threads can be cut out. When I love things, I treat them well.
Prompted by my daily ravings, my mom bought this vacuum. She feels the love too.
Am I nuts, or do you also have love relationships with household appliances?