One Little Two Little Three Little Vacuum Cleaners
In One Little Two Little Three Little Vacuum Cleaners, this is something no one can make up. Okay, there were Four Little Vacuum Cleaners. There are some things that you should never say outside of the four walls of your home, yet, I am.
This is a no-judgment zone.
I made an epic mistake on my last HUGE quest to de-funk my boys’ room. I didn’t trust my God-given senses—the literal and figurative ones. Nor did I heed the warning from not one of my children, not two of my children, but ALL SIX KIDS. Honestly, I shooed them away because A) I was trying to hurry, B) The room smelled so bad, and I didn’t feel like any human being should be subjected to that odor (how do boys/men tolerate that stench), C) I feared for their lives in that room D) and I didn’t want my boys to come in (or my girls) and see what all I was doing (aka throwing away).
So, there you have it.
I had gutted the room, except for the beds. We had a set of bunk beds, but there was a captain’s style bed at this time. The beds had drawers underneath the mattress. I had stuff in piles; legos, clothes, stuffed animals, papers, dress-up clothes, etc.).
Once I had them in piles, I prepared to move them to their rightful place (i.e., the trash can or the appropriate container or drawer). I whipped out my giant bumblebee yellow vacuum cleaner. Oh, how I loved this vacuum cleaner. I was vacuuming around the piles, just getting up the significant chunks.
First, I decided that I needed to vacuum out the inside of the t-tiny closet. I got the floor good and clean, and I thought it would be good to use the hose and vacuum up around the cracks because it was nasty. The hose is SUPER long (I did love that vacuum cleaner), so I had the main part of the cleaner in the middle of the floor, and I stretched the hose to where I needed it to be. There was no pulling/tugging, and I was intensely focusing on the dirt that had made its home in the closet.
When I am focused on something, there is nothing that can distract me. I mean, nothing. Honestly, I am zoomed in and going to town. I noticed a smell of smoke, but I thought it was nothing. Sadly, I didn’t see any smoke. Therefore there was no smoke.
My kids started trickling down the hall, and I heard statements like, “mom, the hall is filled with smoke. Hey, mom, where is that smoke coming from. Mom, I smell something burning.” I’m thinking, “whatever, it’s all good, and do not come and bother me.”
- Am. Stupid.
I continue to vacuum, and I glance over at the base of the vacuum, and in my mind, I think, “huh, I thought that vacuum was yellow.” That day, it looked a bit more orange in color. I disregard my thought and press on with my cleaning.
After a few more minutes, I thought the room looked a bit smoky, and an odd smell was going on. I looked over at the vacuum cleaner, and alas, I was in the process of sucking up Catfish’s army pants that are made out of that nylon stuff. It was spinning around the bottom, much like a tire spinning out.
There was the smell of smoke and stench. The roller was going so fast that it got his pants so hot, and before you know it, it was on fire. My vacuum was not orange because I wasn’t paying attention. It was orange cause it was on fire.
I quickly turned off, unplugged the cleaner, and tried to salvage the pants, but the char and burn marks were too much to repair. That, and my vacuum was dead. Dead. Not just a “let me pull the stuff out, and it will run again,” but dead.
I had a little vacuum that I used on my hardwood floors. It is a Bissell, and I enjoy it probably more than I should. It makes me happy seeing all the dirt go away and hearing the “ping ping” of dirt pop inside it.
When we first got it, I was so enthralled that I vacuumed multiple times daily. It was so much, according to Big Daddy. He didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as I did. I could use it on the carpet since I was a vacuum cleaner.
And that’s what I get for thinking.
I swept away and thought, “Hey, it looks smoky here.” Yet, the previous day’s problem did not even dawn on me. I was running through the house, getting up the bits and pieces of nasty on my floor, and I realized that a trail of smoke was surrounding me.
I look down, and my sweet little Bissell is on fire. It didn’t like carpet :/
I may or may not claim fame to this one.
After I burned up the second vacuum, my friend loaned me hers. I was thrilled to be able to run another big girl vacuum in the house. Stupidly, I thought my last two issues were just a fluke.
I used it.
I liked it.
It made me happy.
I returned it.
I got a call, and Melissa said: “I think my vacuum is on fire.” She went running it to her house, and it was burned up.
A friend gave me an excellent large vacuum. It was used but still in good condition. When I was cleaning this week, I once again smelled smoke.
I just don’t get it.
I do not get it.
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