Well, that was something else!
I've needed a treat of some sort after my health-hiccuping first half of 2013, so I've finally managed it.
No, I haven't been fondling human-weary dolphins, leaping ravines on a monocycle or hurling myself out of aeroplanes with wild abandon and only a few bits of fabric to aid and ease the landing.
A few weeks ago I came to the realisation that I could afford a new "toy".
More of an extravagant essential than that which I would normally consider a thing of joy, but I have to be reasonable.
Three times I attempted to buy one, and three times I failed, but each visit to the shop has brought me a little bit closer to fulfilling my quest.
The first time I touched the box, then something else came up and I had to reassign the money.
The second time I was determined to get one, and even decided on the model, but they were out of stock.
The third time I even got one into my shopping trolley, but then the reassignment thing happened again and I put it back.
Today I completed said quest, and managed to get one of my very own, into my house, and even with a price reduction....
Go me.
I'd bought one years before which is still faithfully working very well, but I'm quite aware that its retirement days are approaching and I really need one for each floor of my house.
This means I do know the huge price is worth it, even though my last model cost £100 more than my car at the time.
I'd initially begrudged the price, but have since learned that it was a good investment on boring essential household equipment [unlike buying a custom-built trike, which is much more exciting, but that's another story].
Without unpacking the other shopping I set about the preparations to operate my new machine, undoing the box [a mini quest in itself] and assembling the contents [the easiest part].
You could say I knew what to expect, with the younger, fresher machine, not forgetting all the researched upgrades for better performance.
Well, it's lighter than you'd expect, surprisingly quiet and the power cord reaches all around my house from the kitchen socket, but -
DAMN! That thing's lively!
Imagine, if you can, extra-hyperactive baby weasels, on a caffeine AND sugar overload, and who had just been told they were going to Weasel-Eurodisney.
This little Dyson vacuum cleaner is more excitable than that.
It almost pulled the next-door-neighbours' dust through the wall.
You could suck out eyeballs with that thing. Internal organs, probably.
I hoovered a tile off the floor, and it wasn't even one of the loose ones!
It's even "aware" of it's over-enthusiasm and has little handles to pull to make it more easily let go of wayward curtains, long-lost socks from under immovable furniture and curious-dog tails that wag too close to the "suck zone".
Like valves; but on my first "date" with this new Dyson I had given the operating instructions only a cursory sweep, of course, and hadn't committed all the little gadget-buttons to memory.
I'll appreciate it for years as I have its predecessor.
It's like hoovering up with a spaceship.
It's also like trying to control, by hand, a tornado!
Housework is mostly a repetitive evil, but this thing has been fun, and made it a lot easier.
Once I get to grips with all the labour-saving functions it should be a breeze.
I'm just glad I haven't got small children in my house. I could lose them forever and be left wondering where the tapping and those funny little muffled voices calling "let me out!" were coming from.
Yes, I ache all over now, because I shouldn't even be lifting more than "the weight of a half-filled kettle" for another three months according to the surgeon, but I couldn't possibly have waited any longer.
Ask me how I am tomorrow, haha; aches are always worse the next day.
Actually,I'll probably be hoovering again, and won't hear you because I'll be making laser-fire noises or chuckling at new mishaps.
And, no, you're not borrowing it.
About Me
- Rookwings
- Norfolk, England, United Kingdom
- Mother of four [started young], grandmother of seven [nine soon], happily single; mostly, these days, doing voluntary work - with wildlife. I'm taller than only a handful of people, including my mother, with low B.M.I. I like creating artistically [most media]; computers; machines [especially power tools that help me create things faster]; and I hate waste. There's only one thing that really annoys me, therefore I'm easily pleased. =)
Wednesday, 12 June 2013
Monday, 18 February 2013
Dilemma
Tesco in dereham has had a horrible "bad drainage" smell in the entrance area since before christmas 2012 [at least].
The staff deny any knowledge of its utter obnoxiousness, but will admit that they've had the same complaint from other customers.
Being a hardened cynic, I have formed the opinion that it is possibly a ploy to get people to buy more air fresheners/smelly candles.
But that's not my point...
I like "awkward moment" stories, but one I haven't come across yet goes like this:
You walk along one of the aisles in a supermarket and it is empty except for one girl who is stacking shelves.
As you get halfway along you notice the terrible smell.
Impersonating a really vile fart which had been trapped in a jar for years like an evil genie, fermenting, before being released to the public in full force.
Your mind races as you consider consulting the shelf stacking girl in case she hasn't smelled it.
There may be some "off" produce in the area - but, no. She might think it's you.
And what if it was her?
Would you truly want to embarrass the poor thing that much?
So you decide to run.
No again.
What if someone races around the aisle end, in a rush to grab some ingredient they forgot to buy earlier?
They might just get a good look at you, then smell that odourous vapour themselves.
They would definitely think it was you.
Unless you're pulling a really wry face. A look of utter disgust.
But the other shopper might have little or no sense of smell, in which case you'd just look incredibly daft.
your best bet [from experience] is to slowly abandon the offensive area and leave the aisle with as much grace as you can muster.
Better still, leave entirely and continue shopping somewhere else.
Similar dilemmas can happen in public toilets from the cubicle next door, but when it's busy you often hear the accompanying sound effects, and reactions of people waiting.
The staff deny any knowledge of its utter obnoxiousness, but will admit that they've had the same complaint from other customers.
Being a hardened cynic, I have formed the opinion that it is possibly a ploy to get people to buy more air fresheners/smelly candles.
But that's not my point...
I like "awkward moment" stories, but one I haven't come across yet goes like this:
You walk along one of the aisles in a supermarket and it is empty except for one girl who is stacking shelves.
As you get halfway along you notice the terrible smell.
Impersonating a really vile fart which had been trapped in a jar for years like an evil genie, fermenting, before being released to the public in full force.
Your mind races as you consider consulting the shelf stacking girl in case she hasn't smelled it.
There may be some "off" produce in the area - but, no. She might think it's you.
And what if it was her?
Would you truly want to embarrass the poor thing that much?
So you decide to run.
No again.
What if someone races around the aisle end, in a rush to grab some ingredient they forgot to buy earlier?
They might just get a good look at you, then smell that odourous vapour themselves.
They would definitely think it was you.
Unless you're pulling a really wry face. A look of utter disgust.
But the other shopper might have little or no sense of smell, in which case you'd just look incredibly daft.
your best bet [from experience] is to slowly abandon the offensive area and leave the aisle with as much grace as you can muster.
Better still, leave entirely and continue shopping somewhere else.
Similar dilemmas can happen in public toilets from the cubicle next door, but when it's busy you often hear the accompanying sound effects, and reactions of people waiting.
Wednesday, 13 February 2013
Sunday, 3 February 2013
A Smile for Sunday.
I'm not feeling my best at the moment, having had a chronic sinus infection since august 2012, which is probably compounded by the fact that most of my drains froze up and blocked during this recent harsh piece of winter.
Trouble is, they didn't magically unblock during the thaw, so I went on a scouting mission to see if there was anything in the supermarkets that might do the job.
I returned with two bottles.
One contained a sodium hypochlorite and sodium hydroxide mixture, and the other just the former.
Armed with the pair of products I migrated to the bathroom where I felt the first test should be performed.
Child-safety lids.
Don't you just love them?
You actually need a child to be able to unscrew them for you, and as I didn't have a two-year-old handy I make an assault on the bottles myself.
Plan A:
I did hint that I'm not in full health at the moment, and so the attempt was an utter failure - resulting in a metronome-like chorus of loud clicks, and with the lids not lifting a millimetre.
Plan B:
Not to be discouraged, I shut one bottle in the doorway and wrenched as hard as I could.
This resulted in a gobbet of the contents oozing out through the thread under the lid, all over my hand. Not a good thing. One should preferably keep one's corrosives under control.
Hard to rinse off when the drains are blocked, too.
Plan C:
I got a nice sharp knife and sliced off both the stubborn plastic lids in a satisfying, cheese-slice-type action and the stuff was finally liberated, over the bath and spreading like some giant amoeba, but heading for one of the blocked drains.
I really hope it works - time will tell.
I did have a plunger once, which got lent to family and never seen again, but I have another one "on order" from the borrower. Yeah, right. =)
The whole incident reminded me of a dangerous version of the Cheese-Toastie-Monster, only without the nice cooking smell.
Trouble is, they didn't magically unblock during the thaw, so I went on a scouting mission to see if there was anything in the supermarkets that might do the job.
I returned with two bottles.
One contained a sodium hypochlorite and sodium hydroxide mixture, and the other just the former.
Armed with the pair of products I migrated to the bathroom where I felt the first test should be performed.
Child-safety lids.
Don't you just love them?
You actually need a child to be able to unscrew them for you, and as I didn't have a two-year-old handy I make an assault on the bottles myself.
Plan A:
I did hint that I'm not in full health at the moment, and so the attempt was an utter failure - resulting in a metronome-like chorus of loud clicks, and with the lids not lifting a millimetre.
Plan B:
Not to be discouraged, I shut one bottle in the doorway and wrenched as hard as I could.
This resulted in a gobbet of the contents oozing out through the thread under the lid, all over my hand. Not a good thing. One should preferably keep one's corrosives under control.
Hard to rinse off when the drains are blocked, too.
Plan C:
I got a nice sharp knife and sliced off both the stubborn plastic lids in a satisfying, cheese-slice-type action and the stuff was finally liberated, over the bath and spreading like some giant amoeba, but heading for one of the blocked drains.
I really hope it works - time will tell.
I did have a plunger once, which got lent to family and never seen again, but I have another one "on order" from the borrower. Yeah, right. =)
The whole incident reminded me of a dangerous version of the Cheese-Toastie-Monster, only without the nice cooking smell.
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