Quiet vacuuming...

I've had a lot of cleaning related thoughts in the last couple of days.... family and friends can stop laughing now, I said thoughts not actions. I tried to put the ideas together in an article but they didn't relate well so I've split them up.

So first up is the concept of quiet vacuuming... or as we would say in Ireland, hoovering. As soon as I elaborate you will instantly recognise the concept but I must give credit for the succinct definition of this familial power play to my friends, Sandra, Brian and Jennifer.

When you're little Saturday mornings are about jumping out of bed, making sugar sandwiches (which your mother went nuts about) and watching all the cartoons on TV. One friend told me that she remembers thinking when she was a little girl that she might grow up but she would never tire of cartoons. But as you get a bit older, bed is the king, and this is never truer than after a night out on the beer with mates.

In my house, Dad left on Saturday mornings at the crack of dawn to play golf... and the only challenge was to be out of bed and dressed before he got home. Considering that gave me until 1.30 - 2pm it wasn't a mountain to climb. But the evils of drink and the cosiness of my bed could sometimes seem insurmountable. And that's where the quiet vacuuming stepped in. Mam had been up and about since sparrows fart and was either feeling lonely and wanted a chat, or was cheesed of that I was still wallowing in my pit and felt it was time for some affirmative action. So although our carpets were spotless (as always) out came the vacuum cleaner and the dance begins.

The first stage of quiet vacuuming is the "central pass"... this is where the antagonist runs the machine down the central portion of the carpet/ rug passing the bedroom door of our hero. It wakes you but you can fight it, actually with a pillow placed carefully over your head to drown out the more strident tones, you can almost enjoy the rhythmic ebbing and flowing.

No movement or signs of life from the bedroom in response to stage 1, so its time to step up the game. Stage 2 required Mam to repeat the cleaning pass, this time making sure to clean right up to the doors... yip, stage 2 is also know as "The door bang". Bang!!!! Bang!!!! You're already awake but would more likely suffocate than drown out this noise with a pillow over your head. If a hangover is in play, Stage 2 is usually the killer. Mostly I would call out, stumble out and beg for a cup of tea. But occasionally, the hero in me stayed strong through this stage, hoping that if I could just live through this then peace would once more reign. Sometimes, it worked. Mam gave up. Other times.... well it was war...

Stage 3 escalates quiet vacuuming to new levels of mental and physical torture. It takes it from quiet to really bloody loud actually. It is also known as the "open door" technique. At this point, my mother had decided that her "gentle" promptings were getting her nowhere and would head back down the hall, humming vacuum in hand to really shake things up. I knew what was coming, so had my happy face prepared, always best to meet defeat with a smile. The door opened with Mam announcing "I'll just hoover where I can see carpet"... nice double whammy eh, I'm a mess, the rooms a mess, message received loud and clear. On the face of it I did have options. I could have growled grumbled and refused to budge but some victories are so pyrrhic. Mam usually backed up her entrance with the smell of cooking from the kitchen. Sneaky but very effective.

99% of the time, victory was Eithne's without a cross word ever being spoken and a spotlessly clean house into the bargain. At least I got some freshly baked biscuits and a bottomless cup of tea to gently ease me into a brave new weekend.

hugs