Friday, July 9, 2010
Do you know why I bought the Dyson? I bought it because I was enamored with the idea of the whole thing coming apart by simply pushing a few cool little yellow tabs. That meant I should be able to get to any problem areas and fix them myself. Combined with the whole never having to buy another vacuum belt again, I figured I'd be able to solve any issues that came my way.
Okay, I bought it for those reasons, and the fact that it just looks cool. My husband viewed it as cool. In fact, the vacuum was more his idea than mine. I think it reminds him of a transformer. Ever since we got the Dyson, he's done 75% of the vacuuming. They should use the man factor in their advertising campaign. (They should also include a warning to my husband that contrary to popular belief, this is NOT a shop vac. Or a wet vac.)
Aside from the whole being able to take it apart manually thing, I love that the Dyson can conquer the Cheerios. At least, it used to be able to tackle them. Lately, my vacuum that "never loses suction" has lost suction. I've taken everything apart on that machine at least five times in search of the elusive clog. It's been frustrating, knowing that there is something wrong with my machine that I can't fix myself.
The vacuum has been acting poorly ever since this winter, when we used it to clean out the fireplace. The Dyson has become so bad that sweeping the Cheerios off the carpet with a broom is more effective than using the vacuum. And we've got a lot of cereal on our floors; at least 30% of every box. The Cheerios would go in the front and get spit out the back in broken pieces, making the floors worse than they were to begin with.
In frustration, I took the whole thing apart again and uttered things about my vacuum that I never thought I'd say. Our relationship was going through a rough spell. I didn't know if we would survive. As usual, all the tubing was clear. I could not figure out what the problem was. The hose attachment worked okay. It appeared that the problem was around the brush bar on the bottom. I cleaned/cut away all the debris around the brushes and checked to make sure it was still spinning. When that didn't help, I cleaned out the canister and all the little holes with a toothbrush.
I'll spare you the gruesome details.
Still, the vacuum wouldn't work properly. I cursed the soot that I imagined to be clogging some inner workings that I couldn't get to. I came to accept that the machine would have to go to a repair shop.
As I was sitting there with disgusting piles of vacuum debris scattered around me, taunting me with the fact that I would have to use the broom to get it up off the floor, something dawned on me. I thought about the fact that when the vacuum is upright, in the position that transfers the suction to the hose attachment, it worked fine. It was only while the vacuum was in the tilted position that there was a problem.
I hinged the dismantled vacuum toward me,
and there it was,
the secret compartment.
As the machine tilted, a second, hidden hole was revealed. Two inches of tubing appeared that I had not inspected. There, held firmly in place over the months by a wedged puzzle piece, was the clog. Within sixty seconds, the machine was back up and running.
I'm sorry, Baby! I hope you can forgive me for the mean things I said!