Dearest Vacuum Cleaner,

It is your job to vacuum the floors. I only ask you to do this every week or two. The rest of the time you get to rest comfortably in the office closet. Because your working conditions are so favorable, I would appreciate less attitude when I do ask you to do a little work.

First, the odor you emit when I run you is completely unacceptable. Vacuuming while inhaling the stench of smelly feet does not make the chore any more tolerable. You have never been stored near feet or shoes, so there is no reason for you to smell that way. Your hygiene is questionable, at best.

Second, I could do with a little less attitude from you. While I am vacuuming, there is no need to squeal at such a high-pitched tone that even Gus runs under the bed. I should not have to wear headphones while vacuuming just to avoid a migraine. Which brings us to another point. If you did not make such racket, I would have never gotten out the headphones, which means I wouldn't have been rocking out to Prince's 1999 when the mail lady rang the doorbell with a package. I saw her laughing when I noticed her mid-twirl of the vacuum cord/microphone. I suspect she heard me singing through the door. Again, unacceptable.

Finally, it would be greatly appreciated if you did not retract the extend-o-hose back into yourself whenever I try to do a good job of sucking up bugs and leaves from the carpet. I know that I usually just bend over and throw the trash in front of you to suck up, but today I was trying to be thorough. When you retracted the hose and I had to yank on it and I bashed my head into the wall, I did not find that particularly amusing. Nor was it funny when the hose flew out of my hand and began thrashing about in the air. You're lucky that the dining room curtains were so firmly affixed to their rod and were able to sustain such treatment.

If you didn't want to vacuum, you shouldn't have become a vacuum cleaner. If you don't watch your step, you're going to find yourself on the curb with the rest of my white trash collection of bulk garbage. Yep, you'll be right there next to the big blue mattress leaning on my mailbox. What do you think about them apples?

Regards,
SingingPig