Dearest Purple Dyson DC14,
I love you. You know that. We've made it through a lot, me and you.
Through it all, you've been there to pick up the pieces and the bits and dog hair.
Remember that one time I went to empty your canister and I ended up spilling a bunch of the debris you just vacuumed up? Did you say, "I told you so"? Did you rub it in my face that you tried to warn me I was pushing your fill capacity too far?
You just laughed along with me and vacuumed it back up all over again. Good times...
Today though, I believe I may have pushed you past your limit.
I don't need to tell you how much mess two kids and two dogs make. You've been right there in the trenches with me.
Maybe I didn't notice the way you're always gently nudging me toward the couch cushions. Maybe not. Perhaps you wanted, like a good teacher, to let me figure it out all on my own.
And what a lesson it's been.
The horror of what I forced you to endure under those couch cushions (and then the chair cushions!) wasn't for the faint of heart.
I won't blame you if you don't speak to me for a little while. I know when to give a vacuum some space.
I'm leaving for a week soon, so it'll just be you my husband. Have you met him? No, I didn't think so. Perhaps some day you and he can make some sort of passing acquaintance.
He isn't on very good terms with the washer and dryer yet either, but I have hope he'll venture down to meet them someday as well.
But I digress.
Know that I feel terrible about our experience today and it's unlikely to happen again anytime soon. It truly hurt me more than it hurt you.
I expect some sort of class action suit from anyone who's ever sat on my living room furniture to start proceedings any day now. I'm guessing PTSD or mesothelioma.
You may never lose suction, but it is I who is doing all the sucking today.
Yours forever and always,
The Bacon Lady