Monday, July 30, 2007

In my heart of vacuum cleaning hearts, tucked between cobwebs and renegade insects, sits the realization that the Dyson DC07 Animal, powerful name notwithstanding, isn’t too different from most vacuums. You’ve heard the marketing, I imagine, a futuristic landscape swept continually clean by cyclonic technology, as if some British egghead found the wherewithal to cram Mother Nature’s tornadic ass into a plastic cylinder.

The truth is the vacuum, much like Barney the Dinosaur, is heavy and purple. That’s about it. Now, I wish I could flip the switch and go all EF5 at will, but then again I’d also like to lash together a gondola made of Xboxes and sail down a river of chocolate, magic banjo firmly in hand. What in fact comes out of the Dyson is a blast of metaphorical hot air.

But the need to clean is very real. Each week is a war of attrition against the bugs that dare encroach upon my space. Sure, they might’ve been here before this structure was built, so I ask you this: who’s paying the HOA fees now? Precisely. There are your garden-variety spiders and flying terrors, and then there are your more exotic poisonous species, which are responsible for the two welts currently on my leg. It’s all part of living near wilderness, though. On one hand, you’ve got the wildlife, but on the other hand… Actually, no, I don’t think there are any benefits.