Sorry Simon. This had to be said.
There, of course, is a reason for everything/anything. Or so it would seem.
I contend some thing occur by chance.
For my whatever birthday my family all chipped in to buy a vacuum cleaner as a result of my wishing for one. For once I got what I wanted.
It was a fantastic piece of machinery. With an adjustable power regulator I could pretty much decide how hard this thing sucked. And I’m telling you this thing sucked.
Until I moved to live at FMV. I had just quit my job, given notice on my apartment and decided to live in my studio. Which was a concrete module building, filled with moisture, evil contaminated wharf-fumes from a time when, well, questions weren’t welcome. If the boss told you to dig a hole and fill it, you did.
This environment didn’t pass too well on my vacuum cleaner. Or on anything really. I had a cast-iron mortar black metal style which, by the time I moved out after eleven moths was all red with rust.
Thing is: With my gift of vacuum cleaner followed only one pack of wastebags or whatever so I ran out. Which meant I had to buy new. Which I did, but they didn’t fit so I tried to cut them to fit. They didn’t fit but I got the thing going. Full throttle for about five minutes, the machine went up a pitch. Then there was an immediate stench of burning rubber, a flash and everything went black. I haven’t dared tell my family.
Anyway, it’s a coincidence and it’s in no way romantic. Bags, as in wastebags, are called poser in norwegian. And vacuum cleaner is called støvsuger. suger is sucks. Støv is dust which in a way is stuff. And there is more. It’s in the open, you figure it.
Ergo vacuumcleanerbags = stuffsuckerposer
Sometimes stuff sucks. Some things are there to suck. Live with it.
It’s all good.
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