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I’m sorry. I’m saying it again, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for calling you stupid. I’m sorry for treating you with such carelessness and contempt.

These few weeks without you were tough. I am not going to pretend that I was strong and independent, I was not. I missed you, terribly. I was able to see the mess I had made and when I needed you most, you were gone.

I’m sorry that I took you for granted. Those times you were screaming at me to change your filters and I ignored you. When you overheated and I told you that you were weak and pathetic, I regret speaking those words, really I do.

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You are so right, I never took the time to figure out what you needed! And by the time I finally gave you some attention and investigated the heart of your issues, I discover that your belts were run down; the damage had already been done. Please forgive my neglect.

These past few days spent waiting for your parts, I began remembering the day I brought you home. That one rug in the house, you know – the red one – that has been a every vacuums demise. The one with the hairs of 2 dogs a cat, 3 kids and 2 rowdy parents; that one. You were the only one who cleaned it so magnificently! All the vacuums that came before you could barely handle even one set of multiple shedding, yet you – you – when you came along, my life was forever changed.

You showed me what a real vacuum can do. You introduced me to the power of the wind tunnel. Oh, the way you would gracefully glide over each layer of fuzz and fir, sweeping and rolling and picking it all up, every last bit. Pure poetry in motion, you were.

It’s always been you, always.

I’m sorry about the squinkies. I know it was all in good fun that I would push you over them instead of picking them up – I just wanted to teach the kids a lesson! I didn’t realize that they hurt you so bad.

I’m the stupid one here, its me.

I’m sorry that it has taken me this long to appreciate your strength and value. All you needed was a couple of new belts. Four dollars. That’s all you asked, to get back on your feet, four dollars and we could have been a team once again.

Well, this time it will be different, I promise. This time I vow to keep your filters clean. I promise not to force you to suck up coins, bobby pins and various small toys out of my own inherent, laziness. I promise to trim all the hair on your brush so you can continue to forcefully sweep, because I love you and I need you in my life.

Thank you, my friend, for taking me back. Thank you for showing me forgiveness. This mornings adventure together proved to me how much I adore you – how great you truly are. You are strong. You are capable.

Here’s to another season of keeping this home free of clutter! Here’s to another day, working together, to protect this family from grime. Here’s to a new season of fresh.

Welcome back.

XOXOXO

M

 

 

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4 thoughts on “Reconciliation: a vacuum memoir

  1. Holy crap that’s hilarious!!!! I remember that red rug! I’m so glad you have been reunited and everything is put back in order! Love you lady!!

    • It makes me think of that picture of you from my cottage many years ago. You were vacuuming in a long white sleep dress, with socks and shoes on. Your hair was in a messy bun – it was hilarious!! I love you.

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