An Undomestic Goddess

Today I was struck with a cold, hard realization.  I am not domestically inclined.  Scratch that, not only am I not a perfect picture of domesticity (somewhere my mom is trying hard not to laugh), I fear that I am its antithesis.  I don't like to cook, I'll do anything I can think of before I clean, and I'll do laundry only when I'm out of clean underwear. 

This startling truth hit me today while I was using my precious time off to do some (much needed) cleaning.  After vacuuming the bathroom (because apparently in addition to the dog, Ben and I are also shedding), I set to work on our carpeted bedroom, hallway, and family room.


This past Christmas, my mom bestowed upon our humble household, a new vacuum cleaner.  I'm sure, of course, that she was not meaning to imply that our house needed to be vacuumed, that our current vacuum wasn't up to the job, or that without the proper motivation we would likely never vacuum again and slowly bury ourselves in dust, dog hair, and crumbs (though you're getting warm on that one).


This wasn't any old vacuum cleaner.  It was a super-dee-duper one!  I won't get in to what brand or model it is, because, honestly, it doesn't matter.  Suffice it to say, my cousin did research online before purchasing hers a few years ago, and was soon followed by my aunt and my mother.  (Apparently every female in our family needs one of these vacuums)


I will say one thing, it's a cool little sweeper.  It has lights on the front that indicate whether a given spot is clean.  It goes from red (really dirty) to orange (only a little dirty) to green (clean).  Usually when I vacuum, it takes only a few (or a dozen) extensions of my arm to get an area clean.  Even in the areas that belong to the dog, I can get that little green light to appear in well under a minute.


Today, when I fired up the vacuum, I feared that it was malfunctioning, and was already dreading the phone call to my mom wherein I would have to tell her that our brand new, "hardly been used" vacuum was broken.


I swept and swept and swept the same area to find that the damn red light was still staring at me (not even blinking, just staring).  So, I moved on to another spot (fully committed to my "vacuum malfunction" theory), but figuring that at the very least, I was getting the worst of whatever was lurking in the carpet fibers.  Same thing - seconds turned into minutes, and before I knew it, I was LITERALLY dripping with sweat as I ran the vacuum over and over and over the same patches of the floor with no result. 


I emptied the filter, and at one point even sat down with a pointy nail file and cleaned out in between the little filter folds.  Why didn't I just replace the filter?  Well, because we only have a few, and our vacuum has been discontinued (so the filters are hard to find), and oh, yeah, because I'm not domestically inclined!


Long story short, after emptying the filter 6 times (or was it 7?), spending 20 minutes cleaning out filter folds, and sufficiently drenching my shirt with sweat, I did what anyone in my position would do.  I gave up. 

Even though this was the first time I'd encountered a carpet that refused to be cleaned, quite honestly, I don't expect to lose much sleep over the fact that the little green light never made an appearance over the carpet in any spot that we actually walk on.  

While I know how to do laundry, change sheets, even dust furniture (if the occasion calls for it), I (most often), choose not to.  Can you blame me?  Why dust furniture when it's only going to get dusty again?  Why wipe down the counters every single day, knowing that within 24 hours they'll, once again, be covered in spots and crumbs? 

Those of you who are neat freaks are probably about to lose it, so let's just say, if we ever decide to spend time together, it won't be at my house (until, that is, this undomestic goddess hires a cleaning service)!