Note: This post is not sponsored. I also paid for the product myself. I just really, really like it.
After a vacuum cleaner carked it on me within 12 months of being purchased, I was pissed.
One day, it was fine, picking up bits of fluff and hair left, right, and centre. The next? The crappy thing was completely devoid of suction. Nil. Zilch. Nada. I’d have better spent my time asking my boyfriend to inhale near our bedroom floor for 20 minutes.
After some physical aggression and yelling (broken appliances have a knack for bringing out my dark side) I announced I was done – DONE – with budget vacuum cleaners.
“I AM DONE WITH BUDGET VACUUM CLEANERS,” I yelled to my boyfriend, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead. “DONE.”
No more. This time, I was going to get a fancy vacuum cleaner.
In the interests of honesty, about a month passed between the vacuum dying, our carpet swallowing as much junk as possible, and me working up the courage to say goodbye to hundreds of dollars.
But on Monday, I did it.
I stormed into Harvey Norman with the confidence of a white male real estate agent and demanded they show me their best small vacuums. I’d done my research online, but wanted some professional advice. “I have a one bedroom apartment and want a fancy vacuum,” I informed the lady. She led the way to a majestic creature.