random thoughts – Day 1,414 – (Tuesday) – american dream

In the late 80s and early 90s there was a song by The Godfathers that I liked called, “Birth, School, Work, Death.” I haven’t thought about this song for ages, but lately, the title phrase has been randomly popping into my head and rattling around. Over and over and over.

But hey, it’s the American Dream, right? Birth, school, work, death. And in the cracks between, there are the less dreamy bills, laundry, grocery shopping, and home maintenance.

Tonight, after work-work, after supper, I vacuumed. Super fun housework. No, really.

I was chilly most of the day despite wearing a fleece pullover and a hat and I figured the activity would warm me up. Or the aggravation as the cord is driven over and the vacuum eats the area rugs. Whether from activity or aggravation, either way, I would be less cold and that would be a win.

Potential source of injury?

The most exciting part of any vacuuming adventure is lugging the awkward and slightly heavy vacuum up and down the stairs while trying to avoid a fall or injury. The last thing I need or want is an accident caused by a vacuum cleaner, but more than a few times, there has been the imagined vision of myself in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, trapped under the Bissel Power Clean Swivel Rewind Pet machine, bought when there were pets.

While vacuuming upstairs, as the four words “Birth, School, Work, Death” danced around the edges, a less musical memory entered my head. It was from the college days. I was dating a guy whose brother was a lawyer, and I was helping him clean the brother’s law office after hours. Vacuuming the carpeting came with very specific instructions to back out of the room while vacuuming so there would be no footprints or vacuum tracks left in the wall-to-wall carpeting.

It seemed a bit neurotic and nit-picky at the time, but that is pretty much how I’ve vacuumed carpeting ever since.  It looks nice and fresh until it’s walked on, which happens in my bedroom when I have to get to the outlet in the closet to unplug the vacuum.  It’s a lovely five seconds of pristine carpet fiber. Another sliver of the American Dream.