Sunday, 27 April 2014

Domestic bliss

As I posted a few months ago, since the McBaby's arrival, we've started hoovering about four to five times a day. That frequency rivals that of my tea-making and so it's probably not too surprising that the nozzle got blocked the other day. I put a pen, followed by a coathanger, into the nozzle to displace the blockage, only to lose them in there somewhere. Clonking the nozzle with great force onto the patio removed some of the weird fuzz that was in there, but it also meant that I have now split the hose.

I trudged back into the house and tried to find the hose online. Success! I got this email from "Partmaster" that contained this link:

"We are pleased to inform you that we have identified the item you require. To order or to view the latest stock availability and price information you should visit http://www.partmaster.co.uk/cgi-bin/product.pl?PID=3260704

Sorry, the product you have selected is unavailable on this site."

But didn't we buy a Dyson after Christmas the last time I broke the hoover? I found it in the cupboard, and switched it on to find that, unlike my life, it didn't suck. I called MrM who told me that it had stopped working last year 5 minutes after he got it out of the box and that we were now the only people in the UK with a Dyson that didn't work.

So we headed to town to look at hoovers, with me grumbling all the way there about how much I hate retail parks on Sundays. I may have grumbled so much that MrM nearly turned the car around, so our Plan B was to head to John Lewis. At least they sell cake as well as hoovers.

At the display, MrM told me I could have whichever one I wanted which was very kind of him. Perhaps he'll let me choose my own ironing board next. Anyway, I selected the Roomba which hoovers when you're out!

"No, not that one."

"You said choose one so I did."

Bravely an employee approached us and asked if we needed help.

"I'd like the Roomba but my 'husband' disagrees."

He advised us that they're great and do an average of four rooms before running out of steam and room in the cylinder. Perfect. We only have two rooms downstairs. But they don't go upstairs (or downstairs, I clarified) and are best for "busy families" which MrM and I couldn't ascertain was the right category for us.

"How about a Dyson?" he asked, to which I said that we had one but it didn't work. "That's very unusual," he said. "Have you called them?"

I assumed MrM had. For some reason he thought I had. Quite why I would have called them when I didn't know it wasn't working, I don't know, but I hadn't. So we sheepishly said we would call them before coming back to buy the Roomba/another hoover.

So after a silent car journey home, we got the Dyson out. In trying to find the phone number and model number, MrM dislodged a large piece of glass from the pipe before finding the McBaby's cricket stump in there. Apparently, hoovers don't like random bits of rubble inside them. If I'd known this, I wouldn't have contemplated a life with a Roomba to do my cleaning.

To misquote James' Sit Down: "If I hadn't seen such riches, I could live with a dirty floor".




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