I salute you.
Granted . . . no one is supposed to have to take apart the entire vacuum cleaner, piece by piece and screw by screw. No one should have to run the extension hose through hot water in the bath tub for an hour until the encrusted Cheetos begin to disintegrate.
No one should have to remove all the canisters to cleanse them of orange dust like some bad sci-fi movie gone awry.
The rollers on the bottom of the machine aren't really meant to roll through Cheeto and toothpaste cement.
But the machine runs. And my Oldest Son probably learned a little bit of mechanical engineering, to boot. He is 13. When he grows up, perhaps you can give him a job in your design department. He has some ideas on how to make your product even better, honed from this entire experience.
Does it pick up as phenomenally as it did three days ago when it was new, before the Cheetos Debacle of 2009?
Of course not. In fact, it now probably runs about as well as my old one, which defeated the purpose of getting a new vacuum.
However, it DOES run.
So after the final destruction of the earth, when only cockroaches and rats will survive, they will have clean carpets once they mutate and figure out how to run them.
I notice you do not have a label on your boxes "Demon-Baby Proof" or "Demon Baby's Mother's Seal of Approval." But I salute you, nonetheless.
The insides are oily with Cheetos residue, but . . . you, Sirs, have a good product.
Demon Baby's Mother