Chewymom

About a year ago, Chewydad and I were sick of our vacuum. This was probably our fifth vacuum that we had owned in our married life, and darned if it didn’t seem to put more stuff back onto the floor than it picked up. We decided to visit our friend who owns a vacuum store.

This friend went on and on about the virtues of a Filter Queen. Sure, it’s older than me. (And I’m old–remember? My kids think I’m 102.) But, my friend said, this is the vacuum they use to blow out clogs in the cheaper vacuums that come in for repairs. We considered the fact that our animals shed enough hair to knit an area rug on a daily basis. Clearly we needed a really good vacuum–preferably one that would last more than about three years.

So we bit the bullet and paid more money for an ancient vacuum than most sane people would spend on a new one. And although it is heavy and bulky and I curse it every time I have to lug it up the stairs, it definitely sucks! In a good way.

Today I hauled it out, used it on the stairs with no attachments and decided to just keep going with the hose end. I poked it into dark corners and under furniture, never certain of what I was sucking up. And hoping that loud slurp I just heard wasn’t Mr. Darcy. I vacuumed under the four beautiful legs of the kitchen table, and glanced up to see breakfast cereal and last night’s rice still scattered on the table. Oh come on! Last night was American Idol! You didn’t expect us to clean the kitchen, did you?

Pausing for a moment, I stuck the hose up on top of the table. Slurp went the Kix and the rice. I continued, growing happier by the second, all the way around the table. I even poked that baby up to the edge of the lazy susan. And boy-oh-boy, that kitchen table is clean!

And my secret should be almost safe, because only one family member reads my blog daily. And technically I think it is his job to clean the table, so he should be pretty happy right about now.

Don’t any of you who know me in real life let on to Chewydad that I just vacuumed the table.

No, I take that back. Go ahead and tell him. He’ll never believe you. Because he knows that it would be incorrect grammar to use the words “Chewymom” and “housework” in the same sentence.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 16th, 2008 at 2:23 pm and is filed under This and That. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.