A Fine Morning Indeed!

Barefoot, I journey from my bed to the cabinet containing store brand one-minute oatmeal.  Still groggy, I see two silos before me.  One nearing empty, the other ready to tag in at a moments notice.  Will I get it right?  Noticing slight wear, I reach for the one on the right.  I am so good.  The moment doesn’t last, as I notice something sticking to my feet.  I don’t want to know.  Wiping them off on my ribbed bamboo kitchen mat, I continue preparing the meal.  Again, my feet feel soiled.  I cannot ignore it anymore.  I must vacuum.  Upon placing the container on the counter, tip-toeing, I make my way to the three-season room where I keep her.

Oh the joy.  I have an Oreck, see.  So slender.  Such a durable tangle-free chord.  And light as a feather.  Not that it matters; I’m a man.  I’m strong.  I grasp the sublimely coiled chord draped studiously from only the top hook, and in one motion the vacuum is connected to an energy source.  Pausing, I’m compelled to note that even the plug seems purposefully designed.  Like every time before, as if alive, the wide prong seeks its way to the left eye of the shocked face that personifies the outlet.

Decision time.  This is what I live for.  Rotating brush on or off?  Fantasizing about surprise victory over stubborn debris that suction alone won’t pick up, I let the brush slumber a little longer.

It is smooth going at first.  Plasticky popping sounds proclaim progress.  Despite the apparently recent remodel of the kitchen, the lower cabinets hang just low enough to be a stumbling block.  Good thing I have the edge cleaner.  Horse-hair edge cleaner.  I’d have it no other way.  Is it going to be enough…?  YES!  “Got ya!,” I exclaim.

Speaking of the bamboo mat, it looks clean, but curiosity and a sordid past get the better of me.  Let’s see what 102mph of suction can find.  Snap, crackle, pop!  No it’s not the hatted Rice Krispie gang.  Instead, it is the sound of a growing fondness for such an amazing partner in life.  Having returned to a state of strong purity as only bamboo can, I purposely locate myself on the mat as I direct my attention towards the last of the dried food.  As I revel in the success of the chore, the clean mat warms to the temperature of a mom’s loving embrace.

“Well done son.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s