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08.19.05 - 7:28 p.m. Our apartment has been looking a little ratty around the edges lately - hey, it's been a rough summer and my energy has been focused elsewhere than on the piles of EVERYTHING popping up like weeds. I don't think we'd seen the top of our coffee table for at least a month. So with my magical day off from work (thank you, two-day server installation!), I decided to have a top-to-toe organizing/dusting/vacuuming rampage, and even walk to Tarzhay and buy a new shower curtain liner as a bonus. I think you can already tell that this did not end well. The vacuum cleaner almost caught on fire. Is this some kind of sign? Usually it's Dan's job to do the vacuuming, but since our carpet was looking hairier than Malcolm Gladwell and I had an extra day on my hands... maybe it was feeling abandoned by its master and decided to take its rage out on me? No, the true culprit was the cord, which somehow got caught in the spinning undercarriage while I was sucking dust out of the corners of the couch with the extension hose. Damn my attention to detail. The vacuum started sparking and coughing up little black particles, at which point I panicked, unplugged the thing and ripped the cord in half as I yanked it out of the cleaner. The stench of burnt metal and rubber filled the air. Now it's lying in the hallway like a deer carcass, with the broken half of the cord curled up at its side. Poor Dirt Devil. I should just stick to kitchens and bathrooms, and give Dan his cleaning responsibilities back.
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