Dusty tale
When we moved into House 2.0, there were changes to make. One big step was to upgrade from cheap carpet to our ceramic tiles. Hell on coffee cups, but the dust retention feature of carpet was gone. We had to get better tools than a broom to get through life with a dog.
And so we adopted “Dusty Dyson”. Quiet fellow. Compact. There is one odd detail, though. If you push a button near the tail end, his body rolls over and waits to be (scratched?) dumped. I can handle that part, but getthg the belly back on the beast is not obvious.
Before you draw conclusions, I have not names most of the appliances around the house. The coffee machine has a personaility, and I give care and attention every day. There is a larger family (Maytag) that are devoid of individual details, other than a minor talent involving musical tones. Not music; there is a difference here. My fervent wish is that they live long, so I may prosper.
Dusty is different from the others. He likes to wander around the house, humming while checking out the dark corners. I wait for him to find treasure; so far, nothing of note. Just dust and dog hairs. I am careful to feed him dry food, only, because I am unsure of what might be the result. I am a cautious minder of the menagerie. Actually, the alternative of going back to a carpet world fills me with stress, so I won’t. And I will breathe better, because Dusty does HEPA. Akin to yoga, I assume.
