For Christmas, I asked Rick for a good vacuum. He absolutely refused, saying that I would never let him live it down and bought me this instead.

I tried again for Valentine’s Day. He bought me these instead.

I see a trend here. He cares more about his stomach than the cleanliness of our home.

But I really DID want a vacuum cleaner, so last week I set off to find one for myself.

I do this once every couple of years when I get disgusted that the current Hoover/Kenmore/DustBuster/Bissell hasn’t been able to keep up with the dust Harveys that my house seems to breed.

I have been operating a vacuum since around the age of eight and I have owned one since I was 20. Even with 35 years of experience in the dust sucking business, I have yet to find a vacuum cleaner that does the job that I expect it to do.

Maybe I just expect too much. But we can put a man on the moon. We can bake a potato in five minutes. We can sightsee the streets of Paris from the comfort of our homes (Google street view). And we can’t come up with a vacuum that works?!

About nine years ago, when I was in the midst of one of my exhaustive searches, some poor unsuspecting Kirby sales girl (i.e., struggling college student) knocked on my front door. She offered to clean one of my rooms FOR FREE. I informed her that there was NO WAY I was going to buy anything from her – no matter how disgusting she proved my carpets to be with her vastly superior machine.

She was good at her job. I let her clean my family room. I was, of course, horrified by the amount of dirt that Jack had been crawling around in. But I was even more horrified by the price tag on one of those things.

Who pays $1400 for a vacuum cleaner?! … over 60 low monthly payments?! You’ve got to be kidding me?!

In hindsight, perhaps I should have splurged. Because every time I think that I’ve found the perfect vacuum… no matter how many bells and whistles it has, no matter how much I paid and no matter what the vacuum salesperson told me, I am never satisfied.

I have never found a sweeper that can clean all floor types, one that will withstand the abuse of an angry put-upon teenager, and, most importantly, one that will suck up 130 years worth of accumulated dirt.

My house, built circa 1880, has all different types of flooring: hardwood, wall-to-wall carpeting, area rugs, throw rugs, tile and dirt. (Ok, the basement is actually concrete. But all the crumbling walls make it look like dirt, so I would never risk my vacuum’s life in our basement. Even the shop vac would try to sneak out the cellar door if it had legs.)

With a dog, a cat and seven people, that’s 22 dirty paws tracking mud, snow, sand, leaves, you-name-it around my house. (I guess the cat doesn’t count since she doesn’t go outside, but she makes a huge mess with her litter box.) I desperately need a vacuum that I can count on.

Since I have 4 ½ able-bodied children in the house, I have them vacuum often. Well, “often” is a bit of an exaggeration. For that matter “vacuum” is a misnomer. Using that word as a verb implies that they actually do something with the tool in question. I think that three swipes in the middle of the floor, a quick chase of the dog out of the room, and three or four crashes into the coffee table legs qualifies as “vacuuming” in their minds.

I thought I had a brilliant plan last year when I bought a cheap upright to keep upstairs. Certainly, it could handle the simple wall-to-wall carpeting of the bedrooms. Six months later, when I took it to the sweeper repair shop, they practically laughed at me. “Buy a new one,” I was told. “This one isn’t worth fixing.”

So last weekend I went from store to store: discount stores, department stores, electronics stores, special vacuum stores. I researched every available vacuum style, light ones, heavy ones, cheap ones, expensive ones, bagged ones, wind tunnels, canisters, uprights… the list goes on and on.

After reading numerous reviews and asking the advice of everyone from my coworkers to my Facebook friends to Grace’s cheerleading coach, I finally came to a decision. I found a 20% off coupon, drove to Bed, Bath and Beyond, and bought a Dyson.

It wasn’t the $1400 Kirby, but it wasn’t pocket change either.

I brought it home, excited to get it out of the box. I was just sure that THIS was going to be THE ONE. THIS was going to be the vacuum that miraculously transformed my dust bin into a Better Homes and Gardens centerfold.

What I missed in all of my research was that Dyson’s SUCK… and they suck really hard. In fact, they suck so hard that they pull area rugs up into their beater brush. This produces a horrible, grinding, ear piercing noise designed to alert you that there is an obstruction in the brush bar.

Rick came home from his run in the snow to find me depressed and distraught. Not one to let a household appliance get the best of me, he tried to help.

The Dyson will never work well on the area rugs, but Rick managed to sweep the living room without sending the dog into hiding. Now if I could just get him to do that all the time… and wear those running pants while he’s at it.