Last weekend I got a tour of a friend's new house. It was gorgeous (naturally, as all new houses are) with some really unusual wood work and fixtures. From the outside you'd never guess how impressive the inside would be. At the end of my tour we wound up in a bedroom where the central vac lay coiled on the floor. "Sorry," the woman apologized. "I was in the middle of cleaning." I assured her there was no need to apologize and then marveled at her vacuum--the hose was covered in some kind of satin quilting with velcro and ties. "What is that on your vacuum?"
"I bought it with the vacuum. It's a casing to protect your woodwork from the plastic hose."
Brilliant! And of course, I immediately wanted one.
But alas! Back to school and cat expenses have drained my wallet. What's a girl to do?
Apply her Yankee Ingenuity, of course.
I grabbed 3 pairs of old tights (yes, I save them--for tying things in the garden) and snipped off the very tips of the toes. Then I pulled them along my vacuum hose and secured it along the way by tying it with yarn. The tights are slippery enough to slide across the floor and around walls, but heavy-duty enough to get dragged around the house. I tried out my New! Improved! Central Vacuum and it works swell! I don't even get that loud noise of the hose ridges scraping against the wall when I turn a corner anymore. Hooray for cheap fixes! I didn't think it possible, but I love my vacuum even more now. It is my favorite appliance.
If that isn't chaos enough, my mind is still spinning from another great episode of Sons of Anarchy. I totally want to write episode reviews, but I fear becoming a copycat blog by writing a weekly review. Yet, if my devoted readers are fans of the show, it could generate great discussion. I'm so torn...let me know what you think. The entire Jemma/Tara ordeal won the award for "Worst Day with Your Mother-in-Law EVER." And WTF Jax? At the end I swear he'd have made a Very Bad Choice had he not been interrupted. And after that whole heart-to-heart with Opie about women. OH THE DRAMA. Once again I fell asleep grateful that Mr. D isn't a member of a motorcycle gang running guns for a living.
It's the little things, isn't it?