My vacuum's name is The Boss. As in, "Whoa! That vacuum is totally boss!" Here he is.
Sidenote: Lily (putty tat) is only slightly less afraid of him than Isabel, who as you can see, is nowhere to be found when the Boss is on the move. End sidenote.
He's pretty beastly. He's the papa bear of vacuums. He hasn't been my favorite appliance of late, as he's been on an extended medical leave. Pooped the bucket. Choked on hairballs and was never to be seen again (or so I thought, since I'm certainly not going to take him apart to try to "fix" him.) My apartment's carpets have been in major need of a facelift for weeks now (okay, okay months) since all that I've had on the front lines has been this faithful soldier.
(Eesh, looks like I should have been vacuuming that floor instead of photographing it. Oopsie.) Buster's been faithful, but let's be honest, ladies - size does sometimes matter. Besides, his attention has mostly been occupied with keeping the kitty litter at bay in the guest bedroom. Litter and stray poop gravel that kitty flings happily about after she does her business, which I appreciate. Long story short: I've been vacuuming my apartment with a dust buster, and I was sad face.
Enter Super-Husband! I came home from work and almost choked on my own spittle as I drooled over this image:
Ever heard of Porn For Women? (Careful Googling that one, ladies. Eeeek.)
Yup. It's that good. And after he was done fixing The Boss, he proceeded with this.
Wowza. Guess I've been a good girl. Keep in mind that this guy goes into work for 4 a.m. and gets home around 3 or 4 p.m. depending on the day. What a fella. Love him to pieces!