Reward for recovery.

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.