on why i hate vacuuming

So i've thought of a variety of lame ways of explaining this such as i told the vacuum cleaner it sucked and it attacked me (hold your applause please) Or I just finished assassinating the vacuum and well, that's what karma will do to you, if karma cared about vacuum cleaners. What really happened was a coincidence of negative events that led to injury. It all started with a big lots purchase of a vacuum cleaner. A few weeks later the power switch broke. No problem, just leave it on plug it in when needed. Fast forward to yesterday morning as I dropped sun chips on the floor and proceeded to crunch them into little pieces into the floor. No problem, just vacuum it up. Rewind back ten years ago when I bought a cheap ass rug from wal-mart, curtis and his cronies spilled gallons of wine all over it, weakening the fiber, which, almost ten years later, would lead to about twenty feet of string being sucked up into the vacuum around the rotating brush. Naturally the rubber belt driving the brush would not be happy and in a horrid cloud of noxious smoke would undergo the geometrical transition from loop to line in the amount of time it took me to run over to the wall and unplug the fucker. Well shiat. So I sit in the floor, tilt the vacuum backwards dumping dust and other stuff to the floor and open it up to see what the bother is. Belt's definitely broke. Shit. As I stand up from the floor my ankle decides that now is the time to break pull or do something highly negative (not twist mind you, which is what I'm famous for). So now i sit at home, in agony if I try to move what has likely become a conglomeration of stretched tendons and bursa that has teeth like a wood saw. no work today. i hate vacuuming.