Dear Mr. Dyson,
My husband went out and bought me one of your pricey, artistically beautiful vacuum cleaners this weekend. I have been taken with them ever since you and your sexy accent started doing commercials for them some time ago. It's true, I'm a slave to marketing. And you
are the Apple of vacuums.
Since our new house has lots more carpet than our current one, it seemed like a wise investment. Our old (i.e., ugly and not purple with orange accents) vacuum cleaner always has parts falling off and it is really louder than I would presume a vacuum cleaner could be. I would be wrong in this presumption, as I am in so many others.
Your vacuum cleaner is a dream. It sucks- and I mean that as a compliment. I love the 17 foot extension thingy that allows me to vacuum the entire stairway with the base sitting handily at the bottom of the stairs. I love the pretty colors. I love the long, long, long cord. And what I love the most about it is how QUIET it is. Seriously, you can vacuum and have a conversation with someone at the same time, if you are so inclined.
Fabulous product, Mr. Dyson. You probably figured that out about the time you became a bazillionaire, but I thought I would tell you just the same. Thanks for not stopping at proto- type number 4,999.
What do you think you could do for showers? I'm thinking there must be a better way, and you are just the man to come up with a little shower- bot to get all that icky mold and soap scum so I don't have to get down on my hands and knees every week. Let me know what you think.