My Firstborn Shall Be Named Dyson

I have a confession to make. I’ve been curiously intrigued with a certain love interest for quite sometime, and I can finally express my realized feelings with elated confidence: I Am in Love. My love interest just happens to be a phenomenal vacuum cleaner. I had been hearing great things about my love interest ever since I was working as a custodial assistant in college, which was really what kicked off my obsession to someday obtain him, but I always had the preconception that he was simply out of my league. There just was no way a frugal gal like myself could possibly spring for such a high-status icon. Although I knew I always loved him, from all the things I had heard, he was exactly everything I had ever wanted. He was rumored to be the most dependable, the most easy-going, and the most powerful. People would mention how his physique may not initially appear to have all the fancy bells and whistles of his competitors, as he is actually rather petite, but that I should not be deceived by his appearance. I found out tonight (our first true one-on-one interaction) that he presents me with every single item I could ever need, and then some. He really has redeemed my faith in cleaning, and empowered me to reclaim control over dirt, pet-dander, and hair. I had been broken for so long, when my ex-vacuum died. I am sorry his life ended before I could tell him how much I appreciated the first 2 months of our relationship, back when things were running smoothly and he was doing everything his packaging promised. However, this honeymoon stage was short lived.

You see, my ex-vacuum and I ended our partnership on horrid terms, and it was just over a year into our relationship. I suppose I am to blame. I pushed him too hard at times, and was guilty of neglect at other times. I admit to not emptying his bags as often as I should have, or reaching beneath his brushes and lovingly cleaning out those long hairs that always bogged him down. I won’t make a million excuses; I am fully guilty of badgering him again and again with my verbal abuse. However, it is only fair to say that the fault causing our partnership to go sour so quickly was not all mine. He did not follow through on his promises, and I had these promises in writing, right there on the box in which he came to me. However, I was a stupid woman, ignoring that little sentence about the limited warranty. I was naively determined that OUR relationship would be different. I just KNEW that he would be faithful to me long after that silly little warranty sentence said he would. But no. Only 13 months and 3 weeks after the day I brought him home for the first time to meet my carpets, he refused to pick anything up. The harder I pushed, and the more I fussed, the more he screeched. Fortunately, when the end came for him, it was quick and, I dearly hope, painless. It happened in the master bedroom. I plugged him in for what would be the last time. I gently pushed the ON switch, and he whined to life. I started to steer him to the front and back and to the front again, and that is when the aroma of burning hair overwhelmed me. A microsecond later, his brushes locked up and this awful scraping sound came from somewhere within him. It was somewhat reflective of a pitchfork scraping against an aluminum shed. I knew our time together was rapidly drawing to a close, so I shut him OFF, laid him on his back, and prepared to administer CPR: Clog Pickage & Removal. When I was sure I had adequately cleared the blockage, I went to turn him back on and realized the devasting truth: I was simply too late. He was a goner. Rest in peace, Yellow Eureka, rest in peace. Every time I see a sheer shawl with decorative fringe lying defeated and forgotten on the closet floor, know I will think only of you and how you were always so thorough with those devouring skills back in your early days.

After a few weeks without a vacuum in your life, no matter how negative previous vacuum experiences may have been, you realize just how much you miss having clean, sanitized floors, how much you miss walking around in stocking feet without stepping on something unidentifiable and most definately disgusting, how much you miss being able to tell your friends, that YES, they CAN stop by anytime,and when they do, they do NOT have to stay outside on the front stoop or in the garage. I knew it was time for me to find a replacement. During my search, I found myself thinking of that attractive vacuum I had first heard about from the head-custodian of the fine-arts building at EWU back in '05, a vacuum by the name of Dyson. Dyson had done a lot for himself since I first heard his name back then. He was even making commercial appearances, and co-workers were openly singing his praises. After consumer report-stalking him for about 4 nights straight, and reading overwhelmingly highly marked reviews, I decided it was time for me to commit. I was going to spend 3 times more on him than I had spent on his predecessor, but I also was sure to obtain a 5 year warranty. I planned to be much wiser this second time around.

He arrived, and as I was removing him from the box, I was immediately drawn to his rounded edges, and transparent parts: I knew there would be no guessing what was wrong with him, I could see right through him. That in itself was a blessing. Then I went to read the manual to figure out how in the world to assemble him, and felt a sudden tear of explicit joy slip out of the corner of my eye as I realized I was standing in the presence of a miracle: Total Assembly Procedure: ONE STEP. Yes, Dyson not only was easy on the eyes, he was just plain easy. And I loved him immediately. He was home.

Since that night, we have had several rounds about the floor that I can only describe as invigorating. The way Dyson and I connect is an experience I have never had before, and wouldn't trade for all the hardwood floors in the world. He just has a way of sensing all the problem areas and attacks them before I can even say “missed-a-spot”. He was worth every penny, and I tell him that each time I return him to his storage closet always after a successfully wonderful time of maneuvering (dancing) and suctioning. He thinks that the competent job he does is my favorite part about him, but if you want the truth, my absolute favorite part is the fact that he is a vibrant shade of purple. We obviously were meant to be.

80’s Quiz Time: The following song sums up my feelings about Dyson, what is the title & who sang it? Hint: Will Smith produced a version of this song with his son in the late 90’s. If he can dedicate this love song to his son, I don’t see why I can’t dedicate it to my vacuum. Any opposed?
I see the crystal raindrops fall
And see the beauty of it all
Is when the sun comes shining through
To make those rainbows in my mind
When I think of you some time
And I want to spend some time with you

Just the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
Just the two of us
Building castles in the sky
Just the two of us
You and I

We look for love, no time for tears
Wasted waters's all that is
And it don't make no flowers grow
Good things might come to those who wait
Not to those who wait to late
We got to go for all we know

I hear the crystal raindrops fall
On the window down the hall
And it becomes the morning dew
Darling, when the morning comes
And I see the morning sun
I want to be the one with you
Just the two of us
We can make it if we try
Just the two of us
Just the two of us
Building big castles way up high
Just the two of us
You and I
Just the two of us
Let's get together, baby
Just the two of us
We can make it
Just the two of us
We can make it
Just the two of us