I have been wanting to write this letter to you for a long time. A VERY long time. I remember the day that Danny brought you home. You were a pleasant suprise. Our faithful Dirt Devil had bit the dust, and we needed you desperately. I loved your HEPA filter, your self-propelled goodness, and all your gleaming tools. You were great. You sucked up all the stuff our kids left behind. Even mounds of sand from the sandbox. But times have changed. You've gotten older, and every time I use you, strong emotions come flooding to the surface. I can keep them in most times, but sometimes they just come out in bursts. Like last week, when I screamed at you, "Why can't you just suck up that stupid cheerio? Dangit! Why? WHY??!" I know it's not your fault. You are an inferior vacuum. You were from the start, but we didn't realize it until you started getting clogged every time we used you. You are a piece of crap. Everytime I see you I feel like hurtling you out the window, or putting you in the driveway and backing over you a couple of dozen times. Yes, these are strong emotions towards a vacuum, but I require your use almost daily, and with three kids, you just can't keep up. Today, I brought home a new, shiny vacuum. One that has less bells an whistles than you, but with consistant 5-star ratings from several sources, I feel I can trust my new vacuum much more than you. I will not donate you to Goodwill, or throw you in the trash with the 3-day-old diapers, though. I will put you in the garage to help us clean out our cars. The ONLY good trait you have is strong hose suction. I wish you the best of luck in your new role in our home. If you even think about losing your hose suction, though, we WILL let you rot with the diapers.