Forget Dancing with the Stars. Who needs spangled dresses and varicose veins hidden beneath opaque tights when you can dance at home in your pajamas? Dyson vacuum cleaners have added a whole new dimension to the term "multi-tasking."
Vacuuming is an immediate gratification chore: you run around scooping up all the dirt and then turn around and admire your efforts at cleanliness. However, it is often a tremendous labor because you have to remember to empty the bag, and you must pay very close attention as you drag the vacuum around and hope that it won't inadvertantly suck up your new, very expensive drapery fringe or the cat's tail. Inevitably, I manage to open the bag at the least opportune moment thereby spilling all of the contents all over the floor so that I have to repeat the entire activity. Furthermore, it's loud, so my dogs chase the vacuum and bark while I end up with a pounding headache.
But there is the Dyson. On a recent trip to visit friends in Colorado, I had to vacuum their vacation home and stumbled upon the neon yellow Dyson. Thinking that vacuuming three stories of a ski home after a week of outdoor activities left me contemplating drinking while vacuuming. However, I considered the repercussions of explaining to our hosts my possible spills while driving the machinery, so I refrained from indulging.
Much to my surprise, the Dyson was a joy to operate. I flipped on the Jetson-like machine and a soft purr whirred as it inhaled every speck of dirt we tracked inside during our week of outdoor living. The Dyson turned on a dime and I soon found myself barely having to move as it swirled around me. Much to my husband's shock, I told him that I actually liked vacuuming with the Dyson and that I might engage in the activity far more frequently if we owned one. With a price tag of U.S. $550., it is not inexpensive; however, I think it is worth every penny.
The Dyson is a superb machine: efficient and exceptionally easy to use with a fabulous visual design. As I twirled around the house while the snow fell outside, I thought of dear Cloris Leachman and her revival on Dancing With the Stars. I've never watched Dancing With the Stars because I don't own panty hose or engage in any activity that might require them, nor have I had Botox or liposuction. Besides, I prefer to to remember dear Cloris as Mary Tyler Moore's neurotic neighbor in the 1970's when the birth of shag carpeting gave interior designers and vacuum designers a whole new career of creativity.