Some people go through shoes quickly. Some people burn through smart phones.
I am not one of those people. I have clothes that I bought with my employee discount when I worked for JC Penney in college and I have to finally just break up with a phone when I want to get a fun new one and hope that it doesn’t take it badly and throw itself under a passing bus.
But one item doesn’t stand a chance around me.
A vacuum cleaner.
I don’t know what it is. You know people who have those weird magnetic fields and they can’t wear a watch or time stops or they get sucked into an 80’s Madonna video? Well I have the equivalent when it comes to vacuum. These things don’t stand a chance around me.
I have killed no fewer than five vacuums in my adult life. And for the longest time I didn’t bother buying one because I was a broke student and I had a broom.
Seriously. I swept the carpet.
It looked clean.
But let’s be serious. If you’re trying to put yourself through college when the hell do you have a spare $149 lying around? And don’t talk nonsense like I could have just saved $5 a week and had a vacuum in a few short months. How would I have bought my boxes of wine then, huh??
I finally scraped together enough cash, plus these weird bonus stamps I got at work, plus my employee discount (I so wrung every perk out of the JC Penney work experience) and bought a vacuum.
It was green. Somehow in my memory this is significant.
Now let’s be clear – I lived in a one bedroom apartment. I had maybe 500 square feet of carpet to clean. I had no pets.
This was a vacuum’s dream job. This vacuum should have held onto this position for ages. That Hoover Sucky Upright should have been planning to draw social security out of that gig.
Nope. Dead in two years. Apparently seven minutes of action every two weeks was too much for it and it just up and went postal on me in a fit of angry dust right before my dad was coming to visit. Which was good cause nothing impresses a parent like pan-fried salmon dredged in carpet dirt.
Similar scenarios repeated every couple of years. I forgave the red Bissell for gasping for its last breath early because I had an Australian shepherd in the house and you could use their coats as stunt mats they’re so thick.
When Husband 1.0 and I separated we briefly had joint custody of the vacuum and it would come to my house every other week which, given my history, meant it was really taking its life in its hand…er…nozzle twice a month. But it held in there for a while and that system seemed to work until I got a cat.
Then the weekend custody thing just had to go as I was ankle-deep in Abyssinian fur. So I bought myself a new vacuum.
I killed it a year or two ago.
But it was ok, because Himself and I had joined households and HE had a vacuum too! So we just pulled out his.
But now I’ve killed that one as well.
I don’t know how I do it. I think it’s a pretty crappy super-power, if you ask me. Who the hell wants to see that on the Justice League Roster? “Anti-Suck Girl: Able to choke powerful wind-tunnel action vacuum cleaners with a casual glance. Also causes streetlights to burn out and can touch her toes to the back of her head. Secret weakness: Bees and fuzzy things touching her when she sleeps.”
Although I bet there’s a kick-ass costume.
How many Martha Points do I lose for being a serial vacuum killer?