Baby Got His Baby Back

To say we have been through alot of vacuums would be a lofty understatement. Brown brick has seen more dirt pluckers than the wives of Warren Jeffs combined. One could probably blame my protein-deficient hair loss coupled with dust from cheap windows, candy wrappers, ancient cracker bits, and remnants of popcorn bestrewed about the house.
Last July we decided to bell the cat and buy an expensive vacuum, namely, a Dyson. Everyone told us that this was the mother of all brushers. Now I have a secret to divulge - my husband loves a good vacuum so he was elated at our savings and finally our purchase of this non-spacesaving eyesore. He was so astonished by the amount of dust and crap it picked up that he vacuumed well into the night the day we bought it.
I don't have to tell you how broken he was when the Dyson stopped working two months ago. He cleaned, dehair-balled and what not to bring her back to life, but no avail. He took her to the vacuum shop in hopes of a good fixing, but was shot down. The repairman told him that Dyson is the vacuum he fixes the most and is now refusing any more. Steven manifested to him how we researched, scrimped, starved so we could get this vacuum and the gentleman said he understood and he himself didn't understand how it rated so good on paper. Steve phoned me at work to give me the bad news.
"I'm sorry," I said sympathetically.
"But what are we gonna do now? Is there a warranty and where is it?" he cried.
"Babes, I registered for the warranty, but I'm currently removing six layers of coffee stain on some not-so-pearly whites at the moment," I reply, "Can we talk about this later?"
He agrees and says with gloom, "Ok, I guess I'll just borrow Dad's vacuum while you take an eternity to find the warranty."

I know I should feel lucky that he likes a clean carpet so much, but his attachment to the Dyson gets more disturbing by the week. I once pulled the vacuum out of the closet and Brooks yelled at me, "No Mom, that's Daddy's and you can't play with it." So it had come to this, my son would grow up knowing the true man's duty. Believe it or not, I found the warranty on Monday which, by the way, does not match the criteria of "eternity" at all. Steve called the company and an agent walked him through the minor repair. He started his Dysie-baby up and you'd a thought they just signed him to the majors. "T" started eating that day and the vacuum had returned suction. Damn life is good, aint it?