It all started with the most excellent of intentions: I wanted to vacuum the dog hair off the floor of my office. But, the vacuum has been stinky, so first I took out the old bag, then I prepared to clean the vacuum out and change the belt. So far so good.
I got out the instructions and gathered some screwdrivers and my helper. (error #1 might be lurking somewhere in that sentence . . . see if you can find it) I removed the screws from the bottom plate while my assistant
and his pet dog
did their best to stab me with the spare screwdriver and wrest the evil vacuum away from me.
Bottom plate off, screws neatly laid out on floor next to me, time to remove the beater bar for cleaning, as it was ENTIRELY covered with the hair of various dogs, sheep and people. (fyi: error #2 is hiding in this sequence of events; are you with me?).
Fur, fleece and hair are removed and safely stowed in the garbage. Dog -- who has run away with the new vacuum belt -- has been tracked down and the belt recovered. Belt is changed. Beater bar replaced in its rightful spot. Bottom plate fitted into place. Correct screwdriver is recovered from tool-happy assistant and . . . Screws? Did somebody say screws????? 'Cause I can't find them. Nope, not a single one. Not in my pockets, not on the floor, not mysteriously stowed in some tiny spot only a three-year old could think of. No screws. Nowhere. It is as if they have teleported back to their own dimension.
The vacuum is now resting quietly on the floor (face down; it looks like it's had a hard day).
I am now resting quietly in my office chair recovering from the tantrum that you know I threw at all the usual suspects (only the fish escaped my wrath, although maybe I should re-interview them. They never really reveal all that they have seen). At some point the screws will resurface and all will become clear to me. Until then, prepare for a very furry existence.