Pouring down new appliances, that is. Good grief. They say it comes in threes? OK, so fridge...check. Vacuum cleaner...check. Wonder what will be next? My money is on the dishwasher.
Anyhoo, today my vacuum cleaner bit the big one. Paulina. My purple Dyson whom I use every single day of my life. Every. Single. Day. I'm not terribly OCD, but when you live in a house with 3 hairy pets and 2 messy kids (and yes, maybe one messy husband and a long haired perfect woman), your shit gets dirty real fast. So I have just made it a habit to vacuum all the rooms every day. And, I'm a stay at home mom, so a vacuum is kind of a big part of my job. It's like a working woman's laptop, or 80's shoulder pad power suit.
Today, I was doing the stairs. My son Samuel has a flair for the dramatic these days, and he thought it would be so super fun to push Sloane's little toy baby stroller down the stairs. "OH MAMA. THIS IS SO MUCH FUN." So much fun, in fact, that he started hurling things down the stairs, one of the things being my beloved Paulina. Crash. Bits of plastic broke off, canisters won't go back on, Paulina has swept her last floor. It was a scene right out of a soap opera, and I watched Paulina tumble in slow motion, in her purple boxy everyday evening wear, down the stairs into my den. Oh the humanity.
And so, I did what every crazy vacuum lady does, and gave Paulina a proper adieu, wiped my tears, and put her into the garbage bin to be taken to the Dyson factory in the sky. And high tailed my ass to Target for a new Dyson.
He's beautiful. I think I'll call him Pablo.