I bought a new vacuum cleaner and it’s inspired a general cleaning burst in me. I’m going after nooks and crannies that I’ve trained myself to simply not look at. I vacuumed that two-inch crevice between the fridge and the dishwasher. I took all those empty shampoo bottles off the shelf in the shower and out to the recycle bin (that was 9 empty bottles - break into song if it pleases you). I even got out the webster and attacked the spider webs all over the house. (Megs, my house is now safe for you to visit.)
Don’t worry. I doubt it’ll carry on for too long and I’m sure most my female relatives still wouldn’t go so far as to describe my house as actually “clean.”
If one had told me a year ago that I was going to spend this much money on a vacuum cleaner and somehow persuaded me to believe them, my response would have been, “So what else does it do?” while I looked the thing over for magic buttons that produce tiny robots that massage your feet and make you martinis. Nope. It’s not going to inaugurate world peace and it’s not going to make me a cocktail, but it’s really good at picking stuff up off the floor and it feels like it’s made of real materials, if that makes sense at all.
Shawn and I actually eagerly await a good opportunity to vacuum something now, which is easily accomplished with a toddler with a hankering for cheerios. And Luke, far from being afraid of the it as he was its noisier predecessor, chases the vaccuum around the house as we go.
Good family fun for all.