Joy in Daily Drudgery

I love vacuuming. Is that strange? I get great satisfaction from the whole experience. As many of you know, my husband is a bit of a slob. He is a packrat, rarely puts things away, and when he does put things away he places them in the wrong spot, making them impossible to find when I need them later. When I am frustrated at the mountain of possessions on his half of the room which leads me to be less than tidy myself, and the clutter is making me depressed, I get out my vacuum.

In fifteen short minutes I have entirely satisfying experience. I get my sluggish, tired, and pain-ridden body up and moving. I suck up dirt particles, nasty crunchies that the baby has either left or will roomba up later, and the ever present kitty litter that is strewn across my stairs. When I finish I leave a clean floor with beautiful parallel lines running across it. I love those lines. Vacuum lines in carpet are a great testimony. They testify that the room is clean. They testify that I have been productive. They testify that I accomplished something on my to-do list more than just keeping the baby alive and happy. And they look pretty. Maybe only a homemaker can fully appreciate the beauty of vacuum lines, but beautiful they are nonetheless.