Have I vacuumed twice this week?
A few posts ago, I mentioned that I vacuumed twice a week, unlike my mother, who vacuumed every day.
Reader, Bonnie W, pointed out that in the temple, they vacuum every six sessions. Was she inferring that I should do the same? And isn't every six sessions really only once a day, anyway? I mean, have you ever heard someone vacuuming in the temple? I think not.
Even using my little 12-pound vacuum, I sweat like a tuba player in the 4th of July parade. Sweat rolls off my forehead and into my eyes. It drips from my nose.
This is not hyperbole. I have estrogen issues. The main issue being that Dr. Mengele won't let me take estrogen. I now carry a hand held fan in my purse in case I break into a sweat at the symphony or at a restaurant where my sweat nauseates other patrons.
I don't think I smell, but how can I be sure of this? "Do I smell?" I sometimes ask Tom.
"No, you don't smell," he says, but what does he know? He can't smell. Period. He can't smell, and he can't see, and he can't hear. Not only that, but he wants to stay on my good side, so chances are he'd lie anyway.
I was out of the house a good part of the day and when I came home, there were sunflower petals in the vestibule (one of my favorite words). I should vacuum that up, I thought. But I'm so tired, I thought. In the temple, they would vacuum this up, I thought. But they don't have bouquets of sunflowers in the temple, I thought. And vacuuming makes me sweaty and smelly, I thought.
I did not vacuum. I lay on the sofa like Daisy Buchanan and browsed through an issue of House Beautiful.
Did you vacuum today?