Who's afraid of the big bad vacuum?

My mom likes to tell a story about my fear of vacuums as a young child.  Apparently I was so frightened of  our upright vacuum that Mama could simply place it outside my bedroom door (not turned on) and I would be too scared to come out of my room.  Sounds like a good way to get some peace and quiet for half an hour, right?

Well, I think a genetic component may exist to that specific phobia--because this is what Anna has started to look like when I turn on the vacuum:

So pitiful!

I thought we would just have to live with dirty carpets, because it's not like I can vacuum while she's napping anymore (that used to work).  I tried holding her and vacuuming at the same time, and she still cried and tried to climb me like a tree--so clearly that wasn't a good solution.  Finally, I decided to try placing her on the couch, and...

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Eureka...just try to get me now!"

Now, I'm just wondering if I can put that thing outside her bedroom door and maybe get myself an hour of quiet sewing or computer time?