Stupid Vacuum

I know how to use a vacuum cleaner. Seriously, I do. I've had to vacuum the house/upstairs/downstairs/whatever I was able to negotiate down to, since I was young.

However, the vacuum that took residence in the closet had a bag. When it got full it was very easy to change. "Mom, the bag is full!" Mom would come running, actually walking, muttering about worthless children who could not change a vacuum bag, and how will I ever survive when I need to change my own vacuum bag? She may or may not have muttered about moving to a tropical island where there were no vacuums or children.

Mom would change the vacuum bag, and I would go on my merry way.

Now, as an adult, I would like to say, thank you dirt devil for making bag less vacuums. However, the bag less vacuums are kinda gross. It's not the cute little clear bin that makes it easy to grab Legos, Hotweels, or the pet gerbil.

It's a gross bin, full of crud I really didn't want to know was in the carpet.

I call for false advertising, our vacuum dirt container thing doesn't dump it's crud nice and easy into the garbage. No, it hangs onto the crud, and doesn't let go. No matter how many times you beat the container on the garbage bin.

Once the crud has been removed, you now have to deal with the filter. Damn that filter. Tired of having to revacuum up the crud that was once in the vacuum, I decided to beat the filter against the dumpsters outside.

One, two, three for good luck. Apparently, the leprechauns don't work for the Scottish, as the filter went flying out of my hand, landing with thud.

Okay, not bad. It just landed on the wet ground. No, bad. Very, very bad. The filter is lying in a five feet deep dumpster. An empty dumpster, with wet gunk covering the bottom. Okay, I need to get this out. Chris is not going to be happy to see a receipt for a vacuum filter, when we have a filter.

Sorry, I'm not going to jump in there and get it. Softball bat!

Luckily, my car also acts as a sporting goods store. Grab a softball bat, and begin trying to scoop out the filter.

Fail.

I need something smaller and more narrow.

Ski pole!

Now, using ski poles are a little more difficult that chopsticks. It's kind of like using chop sticks to eat rice, only more difficult. Poke into the small opening that sits over the vacuum opening and scoop up. Only to watch the filter fly to the other side of the dumpster.

I am still not jumping in there. And I am not going to buy a new one. Chris doesn't need to know what happened today.

Albeit, by writing about this, he will definitely know what happened.

Poke, prod, roll. Walk it up, ever so slowly. Reeeeaaaaaaaccccccchhhhhh. Got it!
Reassemble vacuum.
Good as new.
Stupid vacuum....