Have I mentioned on this very blog how much I hate vacuuming (I was never big on calling it "sweeping" as many other Pittsburghers do, FYI)? When I was pregnant with Jordan, it hurt my back too much to do the vacuuming (actually, I kind of did want to write/say "sweeping" there...), so Brian willingly took over. Fortunately, he got used to vacuuming, and he kept right on doing it the first five years of Jordan's life. Cue happy, serene music.
Now he typically was not as good as it as I was; he would rarely move easily movable furniture around. And he tended to break out the attachments to clean corners and ceilings only once a month. On a good month (he will beg to differ, I am sure). As a result, he was often done vacuuming our three levels in about 20 minutes, so it was not a big deal, really. But the important thing was I did not have to do that much dreaded chore.
Not surprisingly, soon after I was out of work, Brian handed the reigns (or, rather, the hose) back to me. Cue the depressing/evil music. As much as I hate grocery shopping, it is far, far better than vacuuming. At least with food shopping, there is food at the end. And we all know how much I love to eat. Plus I am practically obsessive about cutting coupons and combining them with sales, which often results in free or nearly so purchases. But vacuuming? Much like dusting, when you have a dog, it is something that after a couple of days looks as if you never did it to begin with. And when I vacuum, it typically takes me about 40 minutes or so, as I move things around and use various attachments to suck up dog hair and other junk And because our model is old and crappy, not only is it heavy (and therefore hurts my back every time I lug it up and down the stairs), but the suction is also not as good as it once was. Which means I often have to go back and forth over the same spot. I should also mention our crazy dog typically goes into full-on attack mode once the bulky machine is on. The vacuum is lucky to be standing as often as Sadie bites it.
On top of all that, I am about as graceful and coordinated as a someone who is not the least bit either of those. Lately, this has resulted in my hurting myself the past two weeks while vacuuming. Sounds crazy, I know, but it is true. Last week, I shoved one of our heavy dining room chairs into my calf while moving it to sweep underneath it (there, I said sweep). Then today, I somehow ran the stupid vacuum into the same calf. I have no idea how. I only know that I should probably get used to seeing purple and greenish marks on my legs as well as nagging leg pain.
Is a seven year old too young to vacuum?
Now he typically was not as good as it as I was; he would rarely move easily movable furniture around. And he tended to break out the attachments to clean corners and ceilings only once a month. On a good month (he will beg to differ, I am sure). As a result, he was often done vacuuming our three levels in about 20 minutes, so it was not a big deal, really. But the important thing was I did not have to do that much dreaded chore.
Not surprisingly, soon after I was out of work, Brian handed the reigns (or, rather, the hose) back to me. Cue the depressing/evil music. As much as I hate grocery shopping, it is far, far better than vacuuming. At least with food shopping, there is food at the end. And we all know how much I love to eat. Plus I am practically obsessive about cutting coupons and combining them with sales, which often results in free or nearly so purchases. But vacuuming? Much like dusting, when you have a dog, it is something that after a couple of days looks as if you never did it to begin with. And when I vacuum, it typically takes me about 40 minutes or so, as I move things around and use various attachments to suck up dog hair and other junk And because our model is old and crappy, not only is it heavy (and therefore hurts my back every time I lug it up and down the stairs), but the suction is also not as good as it once was. Which means I often have to go back and forth over the same spot. I should also mention our crazy dog typically goes into full-on attack mode once the bulky machine is on. The vacuum is lucky to be standing as often as Sadie bites it.
On top of all that, I am about as graceful and coordinated as a someone who is not the least bit either of those. Lately, this has resulted in my hurting myself the past two weeks while vacuuming. Sounds crazy, I know, but it is true. Last week, I shoved one of our heavy dining room chairs into my calf while moving it to sweep underneath it (there, I said sweep). Then today, I somehow ran the stupid vacuum into the same calf. I have no idea how. I only know that I should probably get used to seeing purple and greenish marks on my legs as well as nagging leg pain.
Is a seven year old too young to vacuum?
Comments