Vacuuming

We're having some friends over tonight, so I've been cleaning my house so that when they get here they will think that this is how it always looks.  That's why we clean, right?  To fool our guests?  Anyway, as I was vacuuming the basement last night my $1200 Kirby started burning up.  Literally.  It smelled like it was going to explode and when I took the front off (if you have a Kirby then you know what I'm talking about, if you don't, then just bear with me) and the little thingy sticking out was red hot.  Like an iron in the fire hot.  Frick, I thought, now I can't vacuum. 

And then I thought (this time in a happy voice!), Now I can't vacuum! 

I spent yesterday evening, when I would have been vacuuming, not vacumming.  And this morning I kept not vacuuming until I had the bright idea to call Kirby and ask them how I go about getting my very expensive, yet broken, vacuum fixed.  They transferred me to Parts and Services.  The lady told me to check the set up inside the front piece, make sure it's right and then try it again.  I assured her that I had already done that and she insisted that I try again.  "Whatever," I said.  Actually, I said, "Thank you," because I'm polite.  But in my head I said, "Whatever."

I went down to the basement where my smoldering vacuum had sat all night and did as she instructed.  Did the same thing I had done last night and hadn't worked.  Of course, this time it worked.  And now I have to vacuum.  Stupid Kirby.