Rollin' with Dyson, or: I discover that the right tools can make all chores an exercise in happiness

I’ve been joined in my life by a very special gentleman. His name is Dyson. I can confirm that it’s serious and that our relationship is rock-solid. We’ll be together forever. I think he’s handsome and quirky, and I know he’s a hard worker, at the top of his game, and he’s worth the world to me.

Or at least $930, which is what I paid for my new Dyson DC23 motorhead vacuum cleaner with cyclonic action, free asthma and allergy kit and lifetime HEPA filters. I know, gasp, shock, horror, wasteful, blah blah - not the point. (You might note that this is significantly below the RRP of $1099. Yeah, I drive a mean bargain, biatch).

I’m following the slightly tenuous but supportable line that this is a vegan matter because so many of us have shedding furry companions, and as a person with three adorable indoor animals who should be bald by the amount of hair stuck on my black clothing alone, the matter of their hair magnetically attaching itself to everything that enters my house is of great importance to me. In fact, sometimes I run into my mum at the train station and she can’t help grooming me of my special fluffy decoration. I’ve had boys flee my bed at 3am in the winter due to allergies.* I find cat fur in my food. Yuh-huh. (*not Buzz, ever. He’s supernaturally super about all the pet hair and other fur-kid-related issues and would never do anything hollable like that. But I know it annoys him so this one’s for you, kid).

So it was time for Dyson. I decided that if I was going to put down incredible amounts of money, I might as well go for the top of the range model to avoid post-purchase regret. However, I did wait until David Jones had 15% off their Dysons, and then I visited the Good Guys and asked to beat it. Score 1 Miss T!

I’m not a great vacuumer. I love a vacuumed carpet more than anything – it seems to make all the rest of the mess look like House & Garden-style charming clutter rather than slobbish sluttish dirtiness. But I loathe vacuuming, so it’s always a bit of groan to do it and I require something nice afterwards. I also don’t do the best job … y’know, cos I hate it an’ all.

So I was expecting the first Dyson clean, performed with all the excitement and vigour of a new toy, to yield more than usual amounts of carpety muck. What I wasn’t expecting was all of the following things:

For my carpets to take on a different, brighter, cleaner hue;
For the grey trodden-down paths in the carpet where I walk the most to almost disappear;
For the suction of Dyson to be so strong that I actually got a much-needed, much-appreciated, pre-summer upper arm workout; and
For me to have to empty Dyson four whole times when usually I only have to do it once.

Here’s a picture of the hair, dust, fur and fibre sucked out of my carpets after no more than 5 minutes – and this would equal about a third of my living room:


I’ll own that Dyson was a little hard to manoeuvre – his telescopic arm was fantastic for covering a lot of ground but a little clunky to use, and the ball-shaped thing on the top of his cleaning head meant that he was too big to get under a lot of furniture (but I’ll move furniture for you, darling). However, what he lost in manoeuvrability he made up for in the cute little way he stores his three enchanting attachment heads on his compact body and the clever way in which his vacuum tube snakes around his barrel to fit away nicely. I wish his hard floor head attached too, but the main head might get jealous.

So here’s the real deal: I am totally in hot cleaning lurve with Dyson. He was worth every single shiny cent and I intend to be with him until the day we die (him probably before me. So then I’ll get another).

There’s also a handheld one ideal for pet hair … would that count as a bit on the side?