Well, I will get it this week, and Mom and Dad Red agreed to put a bow on it.
I caught the vacuum cleaner on fire.
Now, before you start reminding me not to use an ordinary vacuum on fireplace ashes, there has not been a fire in the fireplace for over a decade. I’d finished most of the house, and just intended to make a few passes over the World’s Largest Throw Rug. The last time I did that, the vac started smelling hot, and I stopped.
This time, I raised the brush head, so that it wouldn’t overload as easily. I managed two swipes back and forth, and I smelled hot vacuum. Then something like burning grass, or over-baking bread. Off went the power, Dad unplugged the thing, and carried it onto the porch.
The bag had been changed two weeks ago. The beater-bar had some paper in it, and the usual cat and Alma hair, but nothing major. We couldn’t find any obvious source of the problem, so I said I’d take it to the small-appliance place. It’s only 25 years or so old, and they’ve worked on it before.
Nope. I was informed yesterday that no effort at resuscitation would be made. A new vac is en route.
I’m blaming Athena. If she were not a long-haired cat, this would not have happened. 25 years of twice-weekly use, plus dust and fur and what-have-you, cannot have worn out the vacuum.