Suck It Up

I can always tell when it's spring (or fall) because of what's on my floors. Twigs.  Leaves.  Blossoms.  Tiny mud balls.

Anything lying on the ground that will stick to the eight furry feet that run in and out of the house with such spirited abandon.  If I had a dollar for every time I open the door to let a dog out or in ~ suffice it to say, I'd be lying on a beach in the Caribbean instead of blogging about dirty floors.

What I really need to find is a high powered vacuum cleaner with super suction.  I mean, the old Hoover bag model just does not cut it any more.  So I've been doing a little online vacuum cleaner research and internet housewares window shopping.  I know for sure that I don't want one of those bag-less models...I mean, who thinks it's a good idea for all the dirt and crud to just swirl around loose in the canister, and then fly into your face when you try to empty it into the garbage?  Come on.

I'd really like one of those nifty Dyson vacuums, the one advertised by that blonde guy with the cool accent (is he British or Australian?)   But, alas, they are SO expensive - my shabby old floor does not deserve to be swept with such a serious machine.

What I really need is a good deep carpet cleaner, and someone willing to use it about three times a week.

As I mentioned the other day, I'm thinking about tearing up all the carpeting and having the vintage oak wood flooring underneath it refinished.   We had hardwood floors in the house where I was born, and I recall loving the sound of my mother's high-heeled shoes as she tip-tapped from room to room.  (It was the 1950's, people, and my mother dressed like Donna Reed - she really did.)

In my house, however, it would be the sound of those eight tiny feet skit skattering across the wood, hundreds and hundreds of times a day.  Hmmm.

Maybe I should suck it up and leave well enough alone.