A Two Post Kind of Day

I broke our vacuum cleaner today. What started as a jamming dance party and ornament packing up session, ended with a broken vacuum, a puppy hiding in her kennel, and a lady craving a glass of wine like crack addicts crave, well, crack.

After getting enormously frustrated trying to de-light our darling tree, I finally got all of the lights off of her, and then proceeded to vacuum up the entire tree thousands of needles off the floor. At some point, not too far along in the process, I might add, our vacuum started making weird noises. I thought, meh, it'll sort itself out as it has before. Um, no, there was no sorting to be had. Homegirl is done for. Of course, at this point, I am cursing and stomping, you know, incredibly lady-like, and trying to get our little-pick-up-hair-in-the-bathroom/dust-off-the-hardwood handi-vac to try her hand at picking up aforementioned needles. I didn't break that one, but it was a long arduous process, and there are still remnants of tree hanging out in random places. I am thinking I might request of the hubs that we dispose of poor old Mickey tree on Saturday after I have a chance to procure a new vacuum.

Sigh. Even with this development, I am still immensely happy that we went the real tree route this year, and will continue to do so in the future. I am just sorry that the one casualty of Christmas was the trusty vacuum. My Mom bought this vacuum for me when I moved to Texas on my own, and, after a month I mentioned to her that I needed to vacuum my carpet but hadn't gotten around to buying a vacuum because I was too poor. Is that not the saddest (and little bit grossest) thing? Alas, old Bessie (just decided that's a good vacuum cleaner name) made the faithful rounds from apartment in Dallas to apartment in Philly to condo in Harrisburg to first home in Norfolk. You were a good one, Bess. Rest in peace, girl.