Tuesday, March 18, 2014

My Super Power Is Breaking Shit

   So I went to vacuum the other day, and found that my vacuum wasn't working. Not even a little, which was pretty terrible because my daughter, niece, and nephew had been running in and out of doors all day long. And not one of them were taking their shoes off to come in until I noticed and started screaming like a banshee. But too late, the damage was done, and my carpet looked like the forest floor.
  I waited until the kids were all done playing before I tried to clean up, because the damage was done, and although they were now taking their shoes off, I figured clean up at the end of the day, get it all done at once. This turned out to be a good thing, because my vacuum, as I have stated, wasn't even working a little bit. Which turned me into a dragon, I mean, I was breathing fire and everything, the whole works. No one wants to see that in the middle of the day. You want to see that at the end of the day, so that you can go to bed and forget you ever saw it.
   I don't know how many vacuums I have broken in my lifetime. I can't keep count; there are too many. And when you add all the computers, microwaves, toasters, and other various appliances, you start to see a disturbing trend. I break electrical shit. I break it. If it is electrical, coming to my apartment is a death sentence; I am gonna end up sending them all to that little electrical playground in the sky. (Except for gaming consoles. Immunity? Whatever the reason, thank heaven for that.)
   Anyway, I was talking to my sister, trying not to be a braying banshee, although I turn pretty rabid when things stop working -especially when they stop working right when I need them most - so I'm not sure I managed to keep my raging inner bitch in check. In my defense, however, my carpet really did look like a forest floor. The kids had tracked in every speck of dirt and pine needle that they could manage.
   My sister, who happens to be a vacuum whisperer, told me that the belt was broken and that I just needed a new one. I insisted that I just needed a new damn vacuum, this one was a piece of shit, and I wanted to kill it with fire. My sister, the brave soul that she is, listened to all this calmly, and then told me to get out my screw driver, and that she would be over to look, and that she was willing to bet money that the belt was just broken.
   Further investigation revealed -- the belt was broken. Easily replaced, and at $3.99 for a two pack, much more affordable than a new vacuum. However, this is me that we are talking about. Things don't turn out as they should around me when electrical gadgets are involved. Either I broke the belt, or the vacuum heard that I wanted to kill it with fire and it's plotting revenge because now, whenever I vacuum -- it smells like fire. 

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