Vacuum commercials really frost my cookies. I totally get off on the promise of suction power. I don’t know what it is, but I have to talk myself down every time I see a Dyson Ball commercial. I start scheming ways to get a Dyson, calculating how many Christmases I’ll have to barter away with Matthew to get it as a gift, or estimating how much is in my checking account versus how closely I am skirting my credit limit.
Point in fact, I don’t need a vacuum. I vacuum approximately every six months. Really, I do next to no housework at all, and I think that’s the source of the appeal of vacuum cleaner ads to me.
In an ad where a woman vacuums, dirt magically disappears, leaving her with a perfect white and periwinkle blue house. I want to be that woman. I want to smile at my vacuum and whisk my house into home décor catalog perfection, as opposed to the den of dust-ball iniquity I really run. I want a small collection of tasteful vases on a white-washed distressed pine shelf instead of stacks of library cataloging rules and Target photo albums on sagging Ikea shelves. I want allergens to disappear with a snap in a vortex of home hygiene, as I smile at my tail-wagging dog and obviously pleased cat.
Alas, what I have are a Dirt Devil canister vac and an apathy so intense that I’d rather say to people, “Don’t mind the dog fur,” than do anything about it.
That’s the real root of my designer vacuum lust. Laziness. Vacuum commercials make having a beautiful home and keeping it that way look like anyone can do it in just thirty seconds. I need a set decorator, faux natural lighting, and an off-screen fan billowing some curtains. Toss in a smiling, conservatively coiffed Lands End model, delicately waving around a vacuum, and I have true homemaker bliss.
In reality, I have a dog that sheds like a maniac and a personal predilection for couch time. Once the commercial is over, I remember that no matter the vacuum model, I would still have to actually work to vacuum, which I am just absolutely not prepared to do. No amount of revolutionary suction power, lightweight portability, or HEPA filtration actually takes the work out of house cleaning.
The commercial’s over. I’ve talked myself out of the Dyson. I’m back to looking at my furry couch with resignation. But then, oh! A Bissell commercial! Gee I want deep-cleaning like that to be such a snap.
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2 comments:
One word: Roomba.
I'm addicted to the idea of a Dyson, too. I don't even have much of an apartment to vacuum. Not to encourage you, but it seems fantastic for your pet hair issue...
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