Field Marshal von Vacuum: Part 3

The bedroom was tough. Fewer square feet to vacuum, but this is pretty much where my cat lives. If you’ve ever wondered what a floor covered by a thick mat of cat hair looks like, I can send you pictures.

No, actually I can’t, ‘cause I vacuumed it up! Yes, the Field Marshal sucked it all up like a champ. If I’d known vacuums could do that, I might have cleaned more often.

Note: LOL!

The funny bit, though, is what happened afterwards. I had finished vacuuming and was busy in the kitchen, cleaning with a blow torch and pick-axe, when I wandered back into the bedroom for some reason, not more than ten minutes later.

My cat, perhaps in protest, had vomited in the middle of the floor. Of course, I cleaned it up (eventually), but now I had a lovely dark brown mark dead center in the room.

Now, I don’t actually own any carpet cleaner, so on my next trip to the store, I purchased some and then sat down to clean the carpet. The instructions were simple:

1. Spray area liberally
2. Dab gently with a cloth or sponge until dry

I can ‘spray liberally.’ That’s no problem. The ‘dab gently’ was the tricky part. I can ‘rub vigorously.’ I can ‘mash mercilessly.’ I can even ‘wipe with extreme prejudice.’ ‘Dab gently’ was vague. Do I poke it? Do I pat it? Should I, perhaps, hum a soothing tune whilst dabbing gently?

Also, ‘until dry’ seemed a bit excessive. We could be talking hours here. I’m a busy man. I have bathrooms to clean, blogs to write, and games to play. I can’t spend an afternoon fondling a stain.

So, I sprayed the hell out of the stain, halfheartedly poked it with a cloth for a few minutes, left the cloth on it, and then prodded it with my foot when I walked by.

It worked, more or less. The stain is mostly gone, though if you squint or if the light is right, you can still see it.

The moral of the story, gentle reader, is this: A fool and his monkey are soon parted.

No, wait, that’s a different story. This one doesn’t have a moral.

Cheers,
-Jason

Field Marshal von Vacuum: Part 2

I ended up purchasing a large, blue vacuum, upon which I intend at some point to paint hot rod flames. It’s all about style, after all.

I took my new vacuum home and decided to try it out. I admit, I went a little nuts. I actually moved most of the furniture out of my living room, intending to give it the vacuuming of its life and discovered two things:

1. I had dust bunnies large enough to sit under bridges and extort money from travelers. I plan on training them to eat ninjas (it just feels right).
2. My cat had found several new and exciting places to vomit and cough up furballs. More on this later.

After herding the dust bunnies into the spare room and prying the dried husks of furballs off the carpet, I set to vacuuming. My new, blue vacuum sucked. It sucked hard. It sucked so much gunk off the carpet that it was actually a lighter shade of brown when I was done.

It was then that I decided to name my vacuum Field Marshal von Vacuum. It was either that or Sir Sucks-a-Lot. I decided to go with the higher rank. I felt my blue beast of a vacuum deserved it.

I then vacuumed the hall and after moving more furniture, my bedroom.

Later: The bedroom, a tale of woe.

Field Marshall von Vacuum: Part 1

Regular readers may recall that on several occasions, I have discussed my disdain for cleaning my apartment and my problems with vacuuming in particular. Namely, that my old vacuum was incapable of actually removing things from my carpet and was basically a device for scaring my cat and leaving those nifty lines on the floor.

I therefore decided to purchase a new vacuum and visited the local vacuummonger to do so.

Note: ‘monger’ basically means ‘seller of,’ as in ‘fishmonger,’ ‘ironmonger,’ ‘mangamonger,’ or ‘those-things-that-you-use-to-stick-other-things-to-the-ceilingmonger.’

Anyhow, I walked into the local vacuummongery and was greeted by a nice lady. This is an actual transcript of the conversation.

Nice Lady: Hi, can I help you?

Me: I need something that sucks. A lot.

Nice Lady: Do you need to vacuum anything in particular? Like rugs or pet hair?

Me: Yeah. I definitely need it to pick up cat hair. And Captain Crunch.

Nice Lady: Well we have this model (indicated a purple vacuum). It’s designed specifically for pet hair and can probably handle Captain Crunch.

She did this all with a straight face and didn’t call the police or anything, which is why I refer to her as ‘Nice Lady.’ She showed me several models and let me test a few on the ‘pet hair simulator,’ which was a gauzy fabric designed to mimic pet hair. I offered to bring her in a garbage bag full of real cat hair, but she declined, oddly enough.

Tomorrow: Battle is joined. My new vacuum versus my apartment.

The Manly Art of Cleaning: Part 2

As luck would have it, my vacuum does not pick up cat hair. It does not even move it. This means I need to rake my floor to get the cat hair. I am not kidding. I have a sponge mop with no sponge attached. I rake the floor with the edge to ball up the cat hair so I can pick it up.

After 30-odd minutes of raking, I had a bag of cat hair and had broken a sweat. Vacuuming at this point is sort of a ritual. There really is not much to pick up, so it is more about making the neat lines on the floor. A floor has not been cleaned unless there are lines.

Mmmmm, lines.

I should invent a kind of carpet that has lines built in. It would always look freshly vacuumed. Granted, it would probably have to be made with concrete, but that is a small price to pay for having a perfect floor.

So I managed to finish vacuuming. The floor was immaculate. Well, lacking any obvious toxic waste at least. I am sure that once my back is turned, my cat will immediately repopulate the area with hair. This is all part of the circle of life.

Tomorrow: The Bathroom

The Manly Art of Cleaning: Part 1

As those of you who read my blog with any regularity know, I am not fond of the act of cleaning. Cleanliness is good. Cleaning is boring and tedious, being sort of the Uwe Boll movie of chores.

So, much to my surprise, I decided to clean the apartment.

I started with vacuuming. As has been stated before, I hate vacuuming. I do not know why, other than it was one of my chores as a kid. Relatively speaking, vacuuming is easy. Or rather, it should be.

I own a cat. She is a tiny little ball of psychotic fur that does not like anyone but me. She also sheds. Constantly. All year long. It never stops. So, as you can imagine, there is a lot of cat hair everywhere.

Note: If you are allergic to cats, do not enter my apartment. You will die. Instantly. If you wish to kill someone who is allergic to cats, send them to visit me. My body removal fees are quite reasonable.

Tomorrow: Lines on the Floor