I am such a little wifey.
I didn't leave work until 6 p.m., which means I didn't get to the gym until 7:00 p.m. Then, since I had no leftovers waiting for me for dinner, I stopped at Subway and got myself a sandwich to go. Which means I didn't get home until, oh, 8:20 or so.
After "dinner," I looked around and noticed that the carpet was buried beneath about a centimeter of cat hair.
I don't usually notice these things. I have to remind myself to vacuum. Every time.
I don't dislike vacuuming the same way I dislike, say, scrubbing the bathtub. But vacuuming certainly isn't high on my list of things I enjoy. Even if I made a list of housekeeping chores I like from most to least, vacuuming would fall on the "least" side of the spectrum. In order to vacuum, I have to pick up everything that's lying randomly on the floor. And then I have to organize and put away the things I pick up. And then there's the vacuum cleaner. It's as tall as I am. And I hate having to carry it up the steps. Whine, whine, whine.
Hubster is home from camp, but he had a business trip this week and will be home tonight for the first time in three days.
Hubster notices cat-hairy carpets. They stress him out. Few things in this world stress my laid-back Hubster out, but, unfortunately, cat-hairy carpets is one of the few. Hub often ends up vacuuming because he simply can't stand to for our dark green carpets to take on the sickly, wispy, wavy greenish-grey look rendered by days of cat-shedding.
I know it's important to vacuum. I know it's unhealthy not to vacuum. I know that I shouldn't gauge "time to vacuum" by how itchy my skin is after I do sit-ups on the carpet.
(Just kidding. Sorta.)
Anyway, I ended up lugging out the vacuum cleaner. My heart broke as I watched the cats escape through their cat door in fear at the sight of their least favorite home appliance. And I vacuumed. And vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed. And I picked up all the junk off the floor and put it away. And vacuumed some more. Downstairs, then upstairs. I was a vacuuming fool. For fifteen of the longest minutes of the entire day.
I vacuumed my little heart out. Not because I wanted to. Not because I really care at all about whether or not our carpet is infested with a gazillion microscopic nasties. I vacuumed because I love the Hubster and I know he'll be happy to see a clean carpet when he gets home.
I know what you're thinking. "Waterfall sure loves her husband, but she is one lazy wife when it comes to vacuuming."
Yep. You got me pegged. And I do love that old Hubster.