Bob Barker may as well have shown up on my doorstep the day before yesterday and exclaimed my prize, because this is the coolest toy I have ever played with!

It all started when my hubby was going over his Priority Club points. He has a ton, because he travels a lot and always uses the same hotel chain. He started browsing the cool catalog of goodies you could cash your points in on, and my eyes lit up when I saw this Dyson DC07 for mmmfty hundred thousand points.

See, he didn’t know that late at night, during several of my virtual shoppingcartaholic frenzies, I have added that exact model to my cart only to end my session before sealing the deal. I mean, I wanted it and all, but I have a perfectly wonderful Kirby that has served me well and I’m a little afraid of it, too, because it’s 100 pound engine has smashed my toes on plenty of occasions. Not to mention the mmmfty thousand dollars I spent on it years ago. I couldn’t justify it in my head. I’m justifiable, I am. And sometimes even certifiable, but let’s not go there right now.

I digress.

I pointed and giggled and gasped and then pleaded that he cash in our summer vacation worth of points on this yellow dirt sucker upper, and so he did. And so it was. And here it is, and I pink puffy heart it, and I am also a little embarassed because this photo means one of two things. Or both. You be the judge.

1. I suck as a housewife and/or
2. my Kirby has lost it’s ooompf.

Those are pretty sad options. Let me add one more. Yes. I must.

1. Dyson’s rock.

I called my good friend over to see it and be my witness to it’s awesomeness. I was still assembling the thing when she got here, and it took me a few minutes to figure out the Euro way of building something. Here’s a tip: Read the dang instructions. Don’t think that you can figure it out all by yourself because it’s just a vacuum cleaner – because it’s not. Heh.

Then the fun began.

I vacuumed the living room and woah. That picture? Is the dirt out of my carpet after cleaning approximately 80 square feet. Seriously. And ouch. That hurts. Quit glaring at me with those “don’t you EVER vacuum?!” eyes. I just buy really cool floors that you can’t see dirt on, so it tends to slip my mind until goo sticks to my feet. I might just consider vacuuming more often now, though.

So I flip the little bare floor nobbie and head into the kitchen and dining room. I flip the nobbie back to carpet and get the rug under the dining room table. All is going perfectly well and I am impressed as all get out with this thing. Until.

Yes there is an until.

I’m standing there looking at the thing, trying to figure out (all by myself) how to detach the thing to empty the container. I pull this doohickey and push another, and the front comes off. Great! Cool! Now where’s the thing to take the clear container off to empty it?! Well, just as I said that to my good friend, the bottom opened up – and all of the yucky junk I just picked up? It landed on my feet. I kid you not. That’s when I told her “great! I’m doing an infomercial now! Watch as the incredibly awesome Dyson picks up the dirt not just once, but twice! Woohoo!”

It’s my own dang fault. I should have read the instructions.