I love my vacuum. But, it’s not for the reasons you might think. While I do glean a surprising amount of delight by sucking up every morsel of stray cat food, every piece of dried pasta, and every tiny Lego handgun or sword in my path (yes, that`s another momfession altogether…), I love my vacuum for another, completely selfish reason: serenity. When I am vacuuming, I can`t hear a thing. One press of the “on” button lulls me into a zen-like state, where nothing exists but the hum of the motor and the trance-inducing swirl of dust bunnies inside the dirt-cylinder-thingy. I take my time, vacuuming every inch of my house…all the while watching my kids chase each other through the kitchen, scream at each other, or call “mommy” over and over. I can see their little lips moving, but I always gesture apologetically and point toward whatever room my husband is in, shouting, “Mommy’s cleaning…I can’t hear you! Ask Daddy!!”
Is is wrong? Maybe. Am I damaging my kids’ fragile egos by ignoring them? Nah. Am I getting a (perhaps unhealthy) amount of joy by doing a menial household task? You betcha. And my floors have never looked cleaner.