I Love My Vacuum

I was just thinking about this yesterday. It's probably a little weird to like your vacuum as much as I do, isn't it? Well, here's a picture of the kind of vacuum I have: ...which I stole from some Dyson seller so hopefully Dyson will see that my article is complimentary, and let me keep the copyrighted picture. Dysons are awesome vacuums, by the way, just slightly less complicated than a space shuttle, but with all kinds of nifty features that make them easier to lug, shove, and roll around.

I think I come by my love for my vacuum genetically. I have a vivid memory of being about ten, and being allowed to vacuum the stairs down to my bedroom (I don't think I could lift Mom's vacuum before that) and describing what I did to Wyoming Grandmother afterwards. I remember I told her about vacuuming my room, and then up the stairs, and I finished by saying enthusiastically, "And I vacuumed out the corners, too!"

Instead of thinking that she had a very strange ten-year-old on her hands, Grandma said, with an understanding gleam in her eye, "And didn't it feel good?" Thus I think that vacuum-loving, and the attendant neuroses, are likely mine by birthright.

Note that I didn't say I like the process of vacuuming, necessarily (although I do find something soothing about dividing a room up into vacuum-sized chunks and taking the most efficient route around the floor) but I do love the end result, and I love having a high-quality tool. My Dyson works exactly like she's supposed to.

(My vacuum is a girl. My coffee-maker is a boy. The bread machine I'm not too sure about; it might be a wimpy boy. The food processor is a grumpy old lady. Don't pretend your appliances don't have genders.)

At any rate, I was thinking of the pleasures of vacuuming yesterday--while I was doing it, ironically enough-- and realizing that this is one of those things nobody ever mentions about housewifery. It is possible to get an illogical amount of satisfaction out of cleaning a carpet, so that people can walk on it in their bare feet and go "Aaaaaaah." The feeling of a job well done is something that most housewives never allow themselves. It may in fact be something that most people never allow themselves; we tend to percieve work as either important or unimportant and we devalue doing "unimportant" work well, even when that work (trash removal, say, or laundry) is vital to the health and comfort of everybody.

So I guess the point of my post today, if there is one, is for all you who have to do houskeeping or "unimportant" work in any way to step back at the end of doing a job today and look at what you did, and say, "And didn't it feel good?"

:D

Cheers,

Breanna