You know you’re an (immature) adult when….

When you get fantastically excited about electrical home goods! The older I get the more I realise, you know what? life is just too full of stress to be dealing with sub par appliances. Sometimes they might be more expensive, but bitches ain’t got the energy to be faffing around anymore.

Judge me all you want, but I am going to say this with great pride:

Dyson has changed my life, forever! 

That’s right, I’m not even remotely embarrassed about my excitement. It’s amazing, I just pick it up and get sucky – hey hey, watch it! Get your mind out the gutter! Not on my blog please, I’m a lady!

Lets look at the Dyson facts, eh, before you get all ‘this lassies lost it’ on me.

Number one, it’s sucky. Yup, pretty standard trait in a vacuum you will agree, but the Dyson I have is a hand held thingy-mibob (Scottish for a thing you have temporarily forgot the name of) one. Which obviously means it doesn’t have the power of an up right – I’m pretty sure I’m stealing that line from a vacuum advert. It pulls up various nasty substances from the shaggy rug of disgustingness (the rug is basically Jessica’s play mat and trust me it’s nasty at this point). Day old raisins – check. Pennies – check. Dry cereal – check. Stickers- check.

It’s good to note that while it will do a grand job of sucking up partially cleaned vomit, this is NOT advisable. Jesus on a stick, it’s a bloody terrible idea. You would think I would have learned after the vacuuming of the scrambled egg fiasco.

Fact number 2, no more plugging in or unplugging while you create electrical cord death traps. Bitches be cordless! I’m going to be honest here, I hated getting the ‘hoover’ out (Scottish for vacuum. Hoover is a brand I know, so I’m trying not to use it. Do you know how hard that is?!), unwinding the cord, plugging it in, taking it back out, moving to the next room, plugging it in, winding the cord back up to store it away. Nah, listen, I’m busy, I don’t have time for these Crystal Maze mind games. With Mr Dyson, you just pick it up and get sucky. Of course you need to charge it, but least you don’t have to whip yourself with a thick electrical cord every time it gets trapped under a door.

Fact number 3, you don’t develop lung disease when emptying it. Nope. I used to tie a scarf round my face emptying my old, pffft, pauper of an upright vacuum (add in your own version of a snobby accent while reading that. I used Maggie Smith in Downtown Abbey). It was always over full, completely rammed full of dust and items that one really shouldn’t be vacuuming. You needed military precision to empty it in a bin bag without inhaling months worth of dead skin and dust mites *shudders*. Now, a wee shift of a button and BAMN the dirty is gone – Yeah, that line is diffiently stolen from an advert.

Fact number 4, it’s a nippy wee beast (just like my maw, but in a completely different context). It’s so nimble and flexible (like I once was. Well, still am after a few wines I guess. Noooo, not like that. My party trick is putting both legs behind my head and smacking my own butt. You can judge me for that one). No more wrestling with the vacuum while cleaning the stairs or fighting with the cord that is always just one stair too short. Dyson has your back. That little bad boy fits in all the nooks and grooves. Ohhhh so satisfying. Plus you don’t need to make the stairs a bloody Facebook event that requires psyching yourself up for. You just get on with it, sook sooking as you go.

I just wrote a post about a Dyson. What’s happened to me? I actually took the time to not only think about a f*ing vacuum but to come up with 4 facts?! You know what, I could go on. I bloody love it. Once you go cordless, you never go back.

I love my small D!

I don’t even think this does my emotions justice, I would marry it if I could – I bet Dave would too, but for different reasons….

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