Idiot that I am

So here I am, 9:30 a.m. A whopping half an hour before B shows up to take me to her house to take more pictures of her stuff. I have been up since 7:30, and have only managed to clean the basement. Gas Monkey's dad is coming today, hence the whole "me-getting-up-early-to-clean" freak scenario. I am way behind and a tad grumpy. I have not even started the main floor or taken a shower. Whatever I don't get done before B arrives, may not get done before Gas Monkey's dad comes over. Hence the grumpy my-house-has-gone-batshit-and-I-don't-want-to-be-up-this-early-cleaning-it-and-I'm-almost-out-of-time-so-I-think-I-should-write-a-blog attitude. But that is not why I am writing.
B has so graciously given us this older vacuum cleaner from either the 80s or 90s (hard to tell). We love love love this vacuum cleaner. It picks up everything, including the piles of cat hair that always seems to be accumulating around our house, no matter how often we vacuum. The other fantastic thing about this vacuum cleaner, when it breaks, you can fix it! Don't be too jealous now. After all, such vacuum cleaners are not made anymore. Let me demonstrate the power of this vacuum cleaner with an excerpt from my morning (and I know by now you are in awe that a blog about a nondescript vacuum cleaner could be this long).
First, I was trying to vacuum the bathroom mats in the basement. Sure enough, as always happens, it sucks up the corner, and before I can remedy the situation, the brush stops working. Not getting too excited until I assess the damage, I unplug the vacuum cleaner, sit on the floor and try to figure out how to open it. Opening it involves a screwdriver, which is entirely too much work. Hoping the vacuum just overheated, I let it sit in peace for 15 minutes. I plug it back in and nothing happens. Around this time, numerous expletives beginning with an "s" stream out of my mouth, gradually turning into a fury of "f" words. Hint: "fudge" is not one of the words. I look around. The basement floor is covered in random bits of crap from all of Gas Monkey's numerous projects. I go upstairs, find the manual (thank god we still have the manual) and read through. To my delight, there is a "reset" button! Problem solved.
Next, (to answer your question, yes, this story continues) I vacuum the stairs. As I reach the top of the stairs, I pick up the head of the vacuum (it is one of those two part ones), and as I am sticking it on the main landing, to my horror, it sucks up my toes!!!!!! I repeat, this vacuum cleaner is so powerful it jammed itself with my toes, which makes me wonder if my toes are too long. I try to pull said toes out of the vacuum, but it won't let them go. Luckily, I am right next to the power cord. With a grimace I reach over and pull the plug. The brush stops. Problem being, my toes are still jammed in the vacuum cleaner. With an even larger grimace, I pull on my toes, and slowly turn the brush until they are free. And that is my story.
The irony: the vaccum cleaner protects itself from jamming, and managed to stop itself when the flimsy, lifeless rug was caught. A rather ingenious design. However, it did not stop when a person's extremities were caught. Maybe I should have broken a couple of toes so I could have sued them for big money. Then I could be the person behind a new warning label saying "Warning: Vacuum cleaner not intended for cleaning toes."