A Moment of Silence

Dear Great Great Grandpa Hoover,

You have had a long and productive existence. Unfortunately, Monday you just gave up the ghost.  As I write this blog post, I feel somewhat ashamed of your temporary resting place.  A large, black receptacle doesn't seem respectable for a vacuum of your age and rank.  In a few short days, you will be away from us forever.  Out in the landfill amongst other broken and decrepit housewares.

I guess it's better than a watery grave?

For 16 years you've been a part of this family.  One of the oldest things we've owned as a couple. An original wedding gift.  Even when you hit your mid-life crisis and stopped being able to give us your power surge, you just kept on cleaning and taking our abuse.  Abuse in the form of overloaded bags, face plants into walls and furniture, and having to chew up your own cord when we made you run over yourself.

I hope you're not a member of AARV. 

Moving on, we liked you well enough that we stayed within your family tree. We picked up a new, flashy youngster that bears your noble Hoover name. Your Great, Great Grandson.  I will admit he's a bit more flashy, and boastful, and hi-tech.  But that sucker still weighs as much as you do.  

You Hoovers may need to consider a diet.  You're killing my back.

One thing that you had, G'pa Hoover, that your firecracker of a Grandson doesn't have, was the capabilities of vacuuming SHAG carpet.

What'dya think of that, little Windtunnel showoff?

He also seems a bit patronizing.  See below?  He has a green and red light that flashes on and off to indicate when the floor is clean.  "Green means clean".  I guess I'm just a dumb housewife who needs help determining whether my floor is dirt-free?

Yes, there is an arrogance and attitude about this punk with allergen filtration.

Shaw will put him in his place.  He'll have his attachments all in disarray and scattered throughout the house in no time.  Let's see how tough Hoover the second is when slurping up baby drool.

Farewell, Gramps.    

And know that we won't soon forget you.  Every time I see your handle, lovingly removed by my son the scavenger, I will think of you and your self propelling willpower to serve our family for 16 years.  And worry not, for if your heir does not live up to his name, he will be swiftly driven back to Costy-Co.

Where he will forever live in shame in the returned pile.