The hallway carpet is thread-bare in places, and is also black. As such, it could stand to be vacuumed daily—thought it isn’t. This morning My Midnight Man dragged the Dyson Vacuum from the hall cupboard. Whilst I’m eating a bowl of cornflakes, Midnight Man energetically sets the machine in motion. After a couple of minutes he turns the Dyson off and says: “All this thing is doing is making a bunch of noise. It isn’t sucking up anything.”
The sounds of the plastic device being turned over and operated on, drift into the lounge from the passage way. “You weren’t expecting to do an engineering job today, were you?”
“No, not really!” I hear, along with his chuckle. After a minute of two, I see him stand up. “This could definitely stop it working.” I look. Midnight Man is holding a wad of lint and fuzz the size of a dead rat. I can only nod in agreement.
After depositing the matted culprit into the rubbish bin (trash) he proceeds to clean. I hear him yell over the roar of the Dyson turbo engine: “Now it’s sucking up like it’s going after tomorrow!”
“It already took yesterday! It can’t have tomorrow too!”