A couple of days ago I read this post. (The blog post was great and well-written. It was the pictures that caused me the panic.) I’m pretty sure I started hyperventilating as I became convinced that gigantic human-ingesting balls of pet hair were forming on my carpet. I’m a hypochondriac, okay?

Because my husband is the domestic goddess of our household, I mentioned to him that I read this blog post, and we might need a Dyson vacuum. He giddily jumped up and promptly glued himself to our computer doing research on Dyson’s website.

I was like, “Chill out, vacuum boy. I said we might need one.”

Then I almost shat myself when I saw the prices of these sly little lint picker-uppers. The one we would get (the DC 25) is 600 buckaroonies?! Umm, the last time I checked a good vacuum cleaner was like $150.

Is this $600 Dyson going to wash my clothes, fold them, have sex with my husband, and cook dinner, too?

No dice.

However, it is going to pick up microscopic shit off the ground and pet hair that I didn’t know existed. Henry has been shedding a little bit, and perhaps our carpets are dirtier due to his presence.

But the penny pincher in me needs to visualize exactly how much better my life could be with a Dyson. I imagine when I look through the clear view canister, and stare at all the nasty crap I picked up, I will feel like I am getting my money’s worth. I’ll say, “See, that $600 was well-spent,” as I parade the contents of my dirty carpet around town and hang it over my mantle.

I don’t know. We have lived thus far with our trusty ‘ol Hoover. It seems to have done a mediocre job, which is usually what I am aiming for when it comes to vacuuming. I mean we are pretty clean people. We take our shoes off when we are in the house like any good Asians. We disinfect and clean our place weekly.