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.
On my last HUGE quest to de-funk my boys’ room, I made an epic mistake. 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 really 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, with the exception of the beds (remember, a set of bunk beds but at this time, there was a captain’s style bed, with the drawers underneath the mattress that some boy (will not name names but he is the browner one of the three broke it. Not just minorly broke it, but majorly jigsaw puzzled it). I had like stuff in piles; legos, clothes, stuffed animals, papers, dress up clothes, etc).
Once I had them in piles, prepared to move to their rightful place (ie 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 major chunks.
First, I decided that I need 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 really did love that vacuum cleaner), so I had the main part of the cleaner in the middle of the floor and I had 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 notice a smell of smoke, but I thought that 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, its all good and do not come and bother me.”
I. 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.
After a few more minutes, I thought the room looked a bit smoky and there was a bizarre smell 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 that is spinning out.
There was the smell of smoke and stench. The roller was going so fast, that it got his pants so very 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 and unplugged the cleaner and tried to salvage the pants, but the char marks 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 a day…much to Big Daddy’s chagrin. He didn’t enjoy it near as much as me. I thought that perhaps I could use it on the carpet since I was down a vacuum cleaner.
And…that’s what I get for thinking.
I’m just sweeping away and I thought “hey, it looks a bit smoky in here.” Yet, the previous day’s problem did not even dawn on me. I’m running through the house getting up the bits and pieces of nasty that was 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. Apparently, 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 to run it at her house and it was burned up.
I was given a nice large vacuum by a friend. 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 simply do not get it.