ode to hoover

December 20, 2004

Call me a nut. Though you needn’t really trouble yourself to do so, as I call myself a nut plenty for us all. I spent the past hour in hog heaven, thanks to the exceedingly delightful companionship offered by my newest friend–a Hoover SteamVac. Oh my, the simple act of steam cleaning my entire carpeted apartment, and the furniture along with it–it was enough to make a silly girl like me giddy with the thrill of deep-cleaning joy. You see, I am pretty sure that this place has never seen a thorough carpet cleaning–not since we added this apartment to the back of the house back in 1989. Since living here, I have been cleaning, bit by bit, as thoroughly as possible. Yet, I was handicapped with the carpet, not having the funds to pay for a professional cleaning and not having the resources for anything beyond a regular vacuuming. That, in fact, is a tale in itself . . .

Shortly after reclaiming this place, I discovered, tucked in the cavernous depths of the garage closet, an ancient vacuum cleaner, left apparently by one of the past tenants. Intrigued, I pulled it out, dusted off the cobwebs, and plugged it in, on a whim. My assumption was that it would have long since seen its demise, but in fact, it worked. Not only did it work, but it worked more beautifully than any other vacuum cleaner I had ever used, picking up the bits of kitty litter that resiliently resisted other cleaning efforts. When it stopped working one day, I took it to a vacuum repair shop and, thankfully, he was able to fix it and assure me that this Hoover had many year left yet. He also informed me that I was the proud owner of a 1927 model. I thanked him profusely, resisted the urge to hug him, and brought Mr. Hoover home again, where he continues to serve me–his biggest fan–beautifully.

And then last night, my neighbor showed me the steam vac she had borrowed from a coworker. As I was fascinated with it, and transparent, as I always am, with my excitement, she assured me that I was welcome to use it. So, this morning, I gratefully took her up on the offer, and am now laughing at myself for the silly amount of excitement such a simple act has afforded me today.

I suppose this is a symptom of some strange neurosis–should I begin a Neurotic Vacuumers Anonymous support group?

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