I used to spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning house. I was certain I would receive a visitor at any moment that would pass judgment over the general filth and disarray in my home. I’m over that. I’m older and somewhat wiser with three large dogs and two cats living with me. The mysterious disapproving visitor never showed up.
These days, when I read magazines that tell me how often I should vacuum in order to keep my allergies at bay and not serve pet hair with my meals, I feel a brief pang of guilt and then I turn the page. It doesn’t help that I daydream excessively and have poor eyesight without corrective lenses. That’s a volatile combo when it comes to housekeeping and exactly why I ditch my contacts as soon as I get home. I just don’t notice the hair until there’s a considerable accumulation. It could be that I don’t even have a third dog, just a mass of beast hair that follows me and obeys commands.
But lest you think I’m gross and unsophisticated, I’ve been lulled into this sense of security by owning a very good vacuum cleaner. By very good, I don’t mean the most expensive, but it has all the pet hair attachments, HEPA filter, and best of all, it has unrivaled sucking power. This thing could mow my lawn. While my old vacuum was limping along, wheezing through its final days, I was researching every model on the market trying to make my decision. When I went to Lowe’s to buy my new best friend, I was star struck by the floor care aisle. My yearning to own one of the sparkling beauties made my mouth water. Obviously all that research had compromised my sanity, stoking my desire with promises of simplifying my life. I brought my Hoover Wind Tunnel home, and it was love at first swipe.
Now, I do maintain a reasonably healthy home; I’m a bit obsessive about clean countertops and water filters, but when I (finally) notice the thick layer of hair, I’m secure in the knowledge that my trusty vacuum will subdue and eradicate. So I leave it for a couple more days. If the mysterious stranger does happen to ring my doorbell, I’ll park the vacuum in plain sight and explain the hair with a vague “science experiment” story.
Pam Hayes
Trend Communications Specialist
LowesCreativeIdeas.com