Ancient Vacuums and Other Ramblings

Well, one more strike against carpet - our vacuum filters seem to be nonexistent - so I can't vacuum. Yuck. It started out simply enough. After lessons, and some kick-butt crepes the boys and I made, I called Sears, gave them the model number, and asked about filters. The lady said, "Oh, the round ones for the bagless? Yeah, we've got them." I just had to push it and ask if they also have the flat disk-like filter that goes with it. Dead silence.

"There's more than one filter on that machine?"

Yes...

"Oh, honey, you're gonna have to order that somewhere."

Um, somewhere like... oh, I don't know, Sears, perhaps? Since it is a Sears brand vacuum? Evidently, not.

Zorak called the Sears in Huntsville, thinking that it's a bigger store, maybe a better chance. They have them. Woohoo. We met up with him there en route to Pioneer Club, with plenty of time to pick up the filters, get Smidge some boots, grab a bite at the Food Court and head out. Or so one would think.

The young gal in the vacuum department is very kind, and very enthusiastic. Beyond that, though, I really hope she's putting herself through college. We gave her the model number, she fiddled on the computer for a bit, and brought us a flat filter, similar to the kind you'd put in your HVAC. Um, no, ours is a round filter.

"Oh, your machine is bagless?"

Uh, yeah.

"*giggle* I guess this is the model number, then?" (waving the piece of paper upon which she'd written the model number).

Um, yeah.

"Oh. OK, hang on."

Zorak and I exchanged bewildered glances. Should we run now? Should we wait and see if it gets any weirder? Eh, the kids are having fun with the booty-shaking snowman in the next aisle. We'll wait it out.

We can hear her on the phone. "Well, they SAY it's a bagless... they CLAIM it's not the flat square one... yeah, I know... what do I do with them?" Um, ok, first of all, we're, like, *squeak, squeal* five feet away - we can hear you! Second, you got us. Instead of date nights at romantic restaurants, we like to drag our herd of small, hungry children to department stores and lure employees on snipe hunts for imaginary products. No. Really. It's a bagless Kenmore vacuum. And would you like to go cow tipping when your shift ends?

The enthusiastic young girl goes to "the back". The boys have discovered the mixer displays.

Since we don't leave, she eventually returns with a teeny, tiny filter for what can only be described as a Lilliputian cleaning system. Possibly for personal grooming, or touch-up jobs on doll house mats. Not sure where that came from. She says the computer system says it's for our model. No, trust me, it's not. So she asks me if I want her to call Susan. Well, I don't know. Is Susan the resident vacuum expert?

"Oh, well, she's worked here a lot longer than I have. How old is your vacuum?"

Five, maybe six years old.

"*pause* Ohhhh, yeah, she may not know, then."

I looked at Zorak. Did I mistakenly say it was my Grandmother's vacuum, given as a gift when Arizona attained statehood? Is six years old the vacuum equivalent? I mean, I know Balto will be nearing middle age when he's six. Perhaps I'm missing something.

The boys have moved on to the talking sales pitch cards on the artificial trees. We're running out of time. The next row over is the knives.

So she writes down all the information on the printout and tells me we can order the filters online. But, wait. The two filters you have in hand are from that printout, and I can guarantee you that outside of just scotch taping them to the side of the vacuum, there's nowhere for them to go. These filters don't go with our vacuum. And she says, very enthusiastically, in response to this observation, "But they'll deliver them right to your house."

Oh, dear. I think we've overshot our goal, here. Not sure what to make of that. We look at the clock - it's 6:30. We're ten minutes late already, and still a 20 minute drive from church. We decide to grab a bite to eat. I can hand pick the visible bits off the carpet for a little while longer.

Now, it's been a while since we've eaten at a mall food court. I don't think we've ever eaten at this one. It was hot. Stiflingly hot. And there were sample people out in force. By the time we got to the end of the court and were trying to decide what to eat, I wasn't really hungry anymore. Zorak said I couldn't make two more laps and call it good, though. So we sat and ate. Food Court food gets a bad rap. It's really not bad, since you're not paying for ambiance.

The kids played in the kiddie corral. The adult:child ration was suspiciously skewed, and there were a number of children who we suspect were dropped off there during the Easter festivities. But the kids had fun, and it gave Zorak and I a chance to visit with a charming little girl who filled us in on why "Auburn is yucky". She was very sweet, and very devoted to 'Bama. We didn't have the heart to tell her we still have no idea which is which.

And that was pretty much it. That was the day. We came home and everybody except Miss Emily crashed hard. She's sitting at my feet now, trying valiantly to get to the power strip. I'm not sure which of the noises she evokes by pressing the button gets her so excited: the *muooohmp* of the system shutting down, the *poink* of the monitor testing its reaction time to boot back up, or me trying to stifle a scream because I can't remember if I backed up November's photos yet and I don't know if the thing will come back on. Whichever it is, she really digs it. And she's so cute when she succeeds! (Four children of this. Perhaps I've stumbled on a clue to all of our computers' demises? Ya think? *grin*)

Looks like tomorrow's the last day of our heat wave, so we're going to go do the Happy Homeowner and Unpaid Child Labor routine tomorrow. Maybe bake bread in the afternoon and get the house ready to accept a tree this weekend. (A tree! Before winter officially begins! This is momentous for us. We've been known to keep them in the yard until July 4th, but never have we brought one onto the property so soon before Christmas Day. Wow.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy