lives.
Well, I'm with her on that, really. But I like to write so I decided
to respond thusly:
--
Yeah, well, I woke Dale up at 6:45am so we could jet down the street
to take pictures of the most awesome reflection of gnarly trees, like,
EVER, and when we got down there, it was overcast and breezy enough to
screw up the reflection. It's not like I've been wanting this shot
for two years or anything... (just one!!)
Anywho, we went home and I vacuumed while Dale swept and I lost track
of what he was doing but I ended up having to learn a new "feature" of
said vacuum. Apparently the little cyclone thingie that swirls can
get clogged really bad and this seems to be what was slowly causing
the vacuum to lose suction action. I was forced to realize this when
the power kept oscillating between "sorta" and "no way am I gonna help
you clean when you refuse to take proper care of me." So upon hearing
a soft flapping sound and being utterly unable to get the cat-hair
cleaner to work (I think the proper term is "turbo brush") I shut it
off and began cleaning things in earnest.
The filter was worse than I'd expected, so I cleaned that well,
noticed we'll be needing a hepa filter soon, and then noticed a fuzzy
thing hanging down inside the cyclonic action chamber thingie. I
reached my hand in there and discovered a whole glob of fur, dust,
and ... a long piece of packing tape? How'd THAT get in there? So I
pulled it all out but still wasn't satisfied. As it turns out,
there's another filter of sorts in there, or maybe it's what makes
things turn, I don't know. All I do know is that there were more
fluffy globs of fur stuck in the venty thingies and that this panel
was in my way. So I spent a few minutes trying to ascertain whether
the panel should pop down or be removed, when POP it flips right down
if you tug on each side a bit. Yay!! Then I bent the vacuum backward
to get a better look, and lo and behold, I got every last bit of fuzz
I could find. Then I wiped out the chamber (OMG I forgot I could SEE
in there when it was new) and reassembled everything. Now it can suck
all the fur in the house (Kitty attached if need be) into itself and
spit it into the chamber. Not sure how Kitty will fit in the tubing,
though. That's how powerful this little bugger is.
But Kitty ran away, so I contented myself with cat-hair-cleaning the
furniture. I keep telling Kitty that if she'd just let us shave her,
I wouldn't keep scaring her with the vacuum, but she simply gives me
an "I don't think so now pet me" look and rubs fur all over me in
retaliation of the mere suggestion.
Hmph.
The rats and the hamster now have clean habitats, as well. I also
cleared a spot on my desk for my arms so I can type this without
inflicting odd marks on myself. Winter is fine for resting arms on
top of scissors, crackers, chopsticks, pens, papers, screwdrivers, and
earrings, because I wear long sleeves. Today, however, I'm wearing
short sleeves. Such instruments on bared arms means an open
invitation for people to run from you screaming "OH MY
GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR
ARRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMSSSSSSSSSSSS?!" It's not contagious,
really. I'm just a slob.
And you think a little SNOW is bad. Zheezh.
--
I don't know what she'll say to all that, but I look forward to her
response. It will probably be somethig like, "Haha, you're too
funny." What? I know her well!
~nv
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