extreme vacuuming

I learned a valuable lesson today: never give a man—and especially two men—your credit card and send them to Lowe’s. Even with a list and coupons.

Anyway, another $600 bill later, we got a hot water heater, a programmable thermostat, and a new blade for the lawnmower, which I somehow destroyed yesterday and caught hell from Joe for. A new blade was a lousy $22. “You lectured me for 22 bucks?” I asked when I found out. “That’s nothing.”

“It is when you have to replace it every three mows,” he said. Touche.

Still, he’ll lecture me about money and not spending, but then drop $600. If we need it, we need it, but I meticulously research, price compare, and wait for sales and/or coupons. Joe equates cost with quality, though, so he’ll never buy the cheapest thing on the shelf. Even a hot water heater.

I guess it was designated women’s work day, because after watching Belle all morning, I arrived, anxious to work, and was told I could vacuum. It’s been a while, so I didn’t mind too much. It helped that the bathroom ceiling is temporarily displaced (our contractor found old mold and suggested we just replace it) and the boys bought an extra hose for the shop vac. I climbed up into the attic and sucked out as much insulation debris as I could.

This sounds way easier than it actually is, since the attic is now just a series of crisscrossing beams it’d be easy to step right through. Balancing on my stomach on moveable wood planks above the bathroom floor, stretching to the max to reach the fiberglass dust in the way back of the eaves, I thought, this could be an Olympic sport. This totally kicks any yoga class’s ass.

Women’s work is not for the weak.


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