I love vacuuming. It’s instant gratification and the prescribed medicine for my fits of OCD. Since the Boy Child is moving into an apartment soon, I have been perusing garage and estate sales for things to set him up. When my neighbor had a sale, I found an old Hoover vacuum cleaner for $5.00. I know, that’s crazy. Those old vacuums are like Sherman tanks, not the plastic crappy things that are sold these days.
Before it got put with the other things he was taking to school, I thought I’d give it a test run. Geez, the thing was heavy to push, but it worked like a charm and I considered keeping it for myself. For a week I kept that vacuum motor humming and told everybody about it, like I’d bought myself a new car instead of a five buck castoff from a garage sale.
Sherman and I broke up when I ran right into him and smashed my toe so bad I fell on the floor, saying shit in a hundred different ways. I thought I broke my toe, but it was only bruised and the next day it was fat and purple and went wah, wah, wah all day long. I found out those old vacuum cleaners can be dangerous and take you out if you’re not careful, so for now I’ll keep my plastic piece of crap. In the meantime, I put the old Hoover to use……..just like a treadmill but without all the guilt.
