Between the years 1972 and 1987, I gave birth three times, a la natural childbirth. It takes a bit of crazy and a lot of determination to do so, especially since I was extremely young the first time (I am teenager, hear me roar.) And every once in a while, that determination, combined with several strong cups of coffee, rears its stubborn head.
Yesterday, in anticipation of company arriving for the Memorial Day weekend, I took out my tiny but mighty Sears “Magic Blue.” For you kids, it is not a street drug. It’s a vacuum. But it would be a cool name for a band, no?
I changed the bag (mind you, it had worked perfectly a few days earlier) and plugged it in. Whoosh went that familiar sound. But there was just one problem. It didn’t suck. And that sucked. I changed the bag again, thinking it was a torn paper problem. Nothing.
After examining the situation, I came up with this: nothing.
A phone call to Sears to see if it was still under warrantee left me with the following information: I had purchased the little guy in 2004, and the warrantee had expired in 2009. I paid $99 for that sucker new (when it was a sucker) and something like $8 a year for the coverage, a bargain by any standard.
Here’s the thing. With a neck injury back in 2000-something, I can’t do the lifting, lugging, stretching, pulling, and pro-basketball like I used to. OK. Never mind the pro-ball part. But the thought of losing my light-weight Magic Blue was more than I could bear.
I drove to Sears and hunted down an older man named something like Lennie. Every Sears store has a Lennie – a man who has been in vacuums as long as I’ve been having those natural births. After receiving the bad news from Lennie that Sears no longer makes Magic Blue (yes, we paused in mourning together) I looked at a similar small model.
“It has no bag,” I said.
“I know,” he said.
Another pause. A sniff. The shake of two heads. That’s another good band name, BTW.
Later that night, after taking myself to what turned out to be a really awful movie and gravely disappointing popcorn, I went to Target, where a young woman had assured me over the phone that they had “TONS of vacuums.”
Through a pounding rain I went, into the store soaked, to view, well, nothing like Magic Blue. Not even close. And by the way, unless cleaning houses for a living, why would anyone, ever, spend hundreds of dollars on a vacuum? I mean, that’s a lot of new shoes, friends.
A passerby, hearing my sob story (yeah, I was teary-eyed by then, as only one can be for a beloved oldie-but-goodie appliance that also happened to be such a pretty blue color), whispered the name of a local repair shop.
Did I mention that Sears was going to charge $160 to fix Magic?
A call to the local concern showed that for $10, Blue could be diagnosed. If able to undergo surgery, it would be around $60. Not too bad.
But before I put him in the hands of a stranger and leave him for a week with people and other vacs he doesn’t know, I’m going to sit down, take him into my arms, and check him over myself.
If I can go through three births on my own, drug free, I can do this.
I will relax, examine, fidget, breathe, change position and pant…and if needed, if all looks hopeless and overwhelming, I will open the window…and – also a good band name – PUSH.
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