A Vain Attempt to Hoover

I hate to vacuum.

Next to scrubbing the toilets, it's one of the most mundane of household chores to tackle. Utterly Boring.

I find repetitive jobs to be the most monotonous, and well, that very neatly wraps up my feelings on the weekly hoovering responsibilities. I've got three different floor surfaces to cover - tile, carpet and wood. Which correlates into massive amounts of square footage, especially since I like to do the mopping right after. Making vacuuming and mopping a nasty humdinger of a task to get completed all while H Man is napping. Most weeks I 'suck it up' (bad, very bad) and do my best to plow through it.

So while I'm enjoying my most favorite of duties today, you can just imagine how delighted I was to realize I was pushing more dirt around than I was picking up... upon closer inspection it seems the beater bar wasn't moving t'all - Grrrr.

After clomping downstairs to retrieve the 2nd sweeper (and carrying the heavy bugger back up with me) I was less than thrilled when the damn thing started to produce a really bad smell and over heated after only about 10 minutes. Wanting to avoid some kind of explosion - by either the machine or myself (the latter being much more likely) I shut the blasted thing off. I managed to expel a few savory expletives and waited 15 minutes until it was cool to the touch only to find I couldn't get the *Mutha* going again.

Oh Happy, happy, Joy, Joy...