Monday, September 30, 2013

Sucky Vacuum

They say the definition of psychotic is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result… well fit me for a strait jacket. For the past couple of months I have been dealing with a broken vacuum cleaner yet I persist to still attempt to fix it and vacuum my apartment which in all actuality just consists of pushing dirt and leaf debris around the floor.

On Friday I arrived home after my super long chemistry lab. I thought about how I could not wait to try to fix the vacuum and finally, once and for all, get the dirt up off the carpet. I ringed my girlfriend so we could catch up from the week’s goings on. She had some serious things to discuss about her life. I sat there intrigued on my floor with the vacuum a screwdriver, some tater tots and a vanilla coke (soda is a rarity for me BTW I have it maybe once a month if that). When I opened my mouth to offer some advice a huge burp escaped my lips. I was mortified but thankfully she was able to find humor in my inappropriateness.

We continued to chat while I employed the use of my expert Mr. Fixit skills. Previously things fixed include a broken television and a broken DVD player so a vacuum should be a cake walk. Despite taking the whole damn machine apart I could not find the source of the blockage which prevents my vacuum from picking up shit off the floor. I put everything back together and reasoned that, even though I neglected to find anything wrong, the vacuum for sure would work this time.

I plugged in and turned on the vacuum. I began furiously running it back and forth over a leaf which despite my mental attempts to coerce it into disappearing into the vacuum, simply changed position slightly with each track mark I made. I soon noticed a strange smell. I am quite used to the gross vacuum smell being as I have been living with it every time I “vacuum” lately. This was slightly different. I shut off and unplugged the vacuum then noticed that smoke was billowing from the damn thing. I desperately was trying to wave it away but it kept producing more and more smoke.

I got scared and ran (yes literally) it out to the dumpster. I am quite sure my entire apartment complex was alerted by the noise that was following me as I dragged the vacuum by its cord, too afraid to touch its body, across the courtyard. I hope no one peeked out their windows because I am quite certain they would have thought I was crazy for running away from something I was pulling behind myself.     

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