my secret love

I would like to unabashedly announce my love for vacuums.  The lines left behind on the carpet sooths my soul, calms my troubled heart, and lifts my spirits.  For clarification's sake: I am not crazy and I have never been diagnosed with any sort of obsessive compulsive disorder.  But even if it is a disorder, I'd still take it.  My home, any home, is more beautiful when there is a visible indication of the vacuum's hard work.

Although I appreciate the work of any vacuum.....my vacuum is aging.  It's less agile than a drunk senior citizen.  It's less nimble than a monkey with no toes.  It's wheels have lost all peripheral movement.  And even though it sucks, it just can't hold everything in any more.  It needs to tighten its pucker string.  Yes....the vacuum is aged.  It's time that I begin to emotionally, mentally, and financially prepare myself to replace the old bird with a vivacious, vigilant, and vigorous new vacuum.  Or whatever Wal-Mart has.