Floored
My decluttering efforts sent shockwaves not only through the house, parts of which I hadn’t seen in quite a while – namely, the floors, which suddenly screamed out “HELP ME” – but also in my appreciation for the art of homemaking with style.
It was only natural that I expand the scope of my housekeeping to include floor maintenance. The central vacuuming system that came with our house, in addition to sounding like a 747 which would soon land in our yard, never worked quite well on the carpeted floors. Our upright vacuum was too big and clunky to clean the carpeted stairs, and a mass of hair (let’s be fair to the dog – it was mostly the long human hair that screwed things up) constantly caused the driving belt to slip which created tremendous friction and eventually caused a nice burnt rubber smell to permeate the house each and every time we vacuumed. Yes, these are some of the betterexcuses reasons my floors are never quite as clean as they should be. Now, those reasons no longer exist.
On Friday I brought home my new best friend, Antares, the Miele vacuum cleaner. She’s as lightweight as a train case, as sleek as German engineering gets, and as red as my new patent leather clogs. You know you’ve arrived (not sure where) when you’re able to match your tools to your shoes. This is not to be confused with using your shoes as tools which I have also been known to do.
Clearly, I am not the only one waxing poetic over her (or his) vacuum cleaner.
And with the donning of a vintage apron, my transformation into a 1950s housewife is nearly complete.
It was only natural that I expand the scope of my housekeeping to include floor maintenance. The central vacuuming system that came with our house, in addition to sounding like a 747 which would soon land in our yard, never worked quite well on the carpeted floors. Our upright vacuum was too big and clunky to clean the carpeted stairs, and a mass of hair (let’s be fair to the dog – it was mostly the long human hair that screwed things up) constantly caused the driving belt to slip which created tremendous friction and eventually caused a nice burnt rubber smell to permeate the house each and every time we vacuumed. Yes, these are some of the better
On Friday I brought home my new best friend, Antares, the Miele vacuum cleaner. She’s as lightweight as a train case, as sleek as German engineering gets, and as red as my new patent leather clogs. You know you’ve arrived (not sure where) when you’re able to match your tools to your shoes. This is not to be confused with using your shoes as tools which I have also been known to do.
Clearly, I am not the only one waxing poetic over her (or his) vacuum cleaner.
And with the donning of a vintage apron, my transformation into a 1950s housewife is nearly complete.
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