Cleaning the Vacuum

I have just finished cleaning the vacuum. It took me almost an hour. Cleaning the vacuum, yes, not with the vacuum.

Let me tell you why.

I have been in an organizing, take-control-of-my-crap-since-I-have-control-of-nothing-else mood since the new year. It's been going quite well. My dear husband even suggested, supported, financed, and contributed muscle and brain power to the office bookshelves project that is now near completion. (Shims to equalize the level issues in the room and the adjustment of individual shelves are all that remain.) I'll have to blog later about the bed we built together in August 2001 and the building of these shelves and how these projects have strengthened our marriage.

But I digress.

I got the chance to go to The Container Store yesterday afternoon to buy a few items to help organize our home. I got another rope-thingy to hold Dave's baseball hats, some small containers to neatly hold the junk in our junk drawer, an organizer for my underwear drawer, various other wonderful products I won't bore you with, and a jumbo-sized Space Bag to contain a twin-size feather bed that has never had a proper home.

I've been hiding the feather bed in the office. Now that we have a wall of bookshelves, the hiding place is no more. I thought of the Space Bag while at the store. We have a couple of king-size comforters sucked within inches of their lives neatly and safely stored under our bed. I knew the feather bed would fit alongside them and bought the bag.

I've spent most of today putting these new organizing tools to work (after quick morning runs to the drug store and grocery store for essentials -- the snow keeps coming!). I was enjoying my nesting routine and was down to my last task: the feather bed. I got the bag ready on the bed, pulled out the vacuum cleaner, and turned it on. No suction at all.

I was disappointed and upset at the same time. This vacuum cleaner is not that old. I needed it for just a couple of minutes to suck the feather bed and re-suck the comforters. I turned it off and looked into the hose for answers. Nothing. I flipped it over. Nothing. I emptied the canister and cleaned out the filter. Nothing. I looked into the vacuum where the hose connects. Eureka!

There was a tightly-packed column of hair and dust. The more I poked around, the more poured out. The carpet in the bedroom became covered. I threw away the big, gross clumps, put the vacuum back together, and tried again. Nothing.

Now I was really frustrated. I left the vacuum alone in the room with the feather bed to think about it while I calmed myself with a fistful of those little chalky Valentine hearts with un-romantic messages like "email me" on them (drug store impulse purchase).

I approached the vacuum again. The hose on it attaches in two places -- you can detach one end for using with tools. The other end is more permanent, but can be removed to replace the hose, or (duh) clean out clogs. I detached the semi-permanent end and another dust cloud spewed forth.

I held the end of the hose up to look inside and found only darkness. After enlisting the help of a pencil, I found that the clog was quite deep and thick. I slowly worked on it wondering how the suction power of the vacuum had not sucked the clog through, and how the clog was so tight as to not allow any suction at all.

I had covered the carpet and myself with a fine snow of dust. I worked the pencil in and try to angle it to get enough leverage to discharge the clog. With my subtle urging and a few prayers, the clog was freed. Onto my feet fell lots of hair, tons of dust, part of a plastic bag that the newspaper comes in, a tag from one of my bras, and two red M&Ms.

I really have to remember to clean the vacuum more often.