Forsake a Dump

Vacuuming’s not that bad, as chores go. We’d rather vacuum than spray and wipe countertops, for example, or load the dishwasher, or change the sheets, or undertake literally any of the necessary-but-unspeakable bathroom sanitation tasks.

No, compared to most housekeeping jobs, vacuuming’s almost fun. It can be satisfying, like manicuring a little Japanese-style dry landscape garden of filth. The worst thing about it? Emptying out the canister (or worse, in the old days, the bag, yuck). That’s the point at which you come into direct personal contact with the accumulated particulate crud that settled in your home or car since last you hoovered.

This stuff is nasty — a fine powder of tracked-in grime, booger-and-skin dust, pet frizz, tiny bits of desiccated food, and insect legs. And you just know some portion of it is going airborne again when you dump it out, to drift once more through your domicile, crapdusting the joint anew.

Maybe it can’t be helped. But can it be minimized? And if so, how?

We had a few ideas just brainstorming. (We encourage you to remember there are no bad ideas in brainstorming.)

One thing you could do: Reduce your dust output. Switch from crackers and other crispy snacks to pudding and dried apricots. Have your body hair removed. Establish a decontamination room between your front door and the rest of the house, where you strip nude and hose the outside world’s grit off your body before you enter. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is, right?

If that option doesn’t appeal, you could customize your vacuum to bypass the canister entirely. Vent the swept-up dust out a window using sections of hose, trash bags, and duct tape. Better yet, vent it to the Negative Zone, the Upside Down, the Ethereal Plane or similarly out-of-the-way place.

Otherwise, you could simply regard your vacuums as disposable. Buy a bunch of them, and never empty any. Use one ’til it’s full, then chuck it. It’s expensive, but it would work. (Ultra-high-rollers might do the same with a series of homes.)

Our brainstorm session on this topic ended when somebody pointed out the solution proposed by the good people at Shark: Get you a vac with a more capacious canister, then you can go longer without emptying it. The bin on this Shark Rocket DeluxePro will hold nearly a quart of domestic detritus. You’d have to knock over a pretty big ant farm to make that much mess in one go.

Of course, when you do finally empty the canister, it’s that much grosser for its increased commodiousness. Ever seen a quart of booger dust in one place? Yecch. Tradeoffs, though; right?