The other morning, I vacuumed the house. 

I realized several things in the process. 

One, vacuum must not be my favorite word, because its muscle memory hasn’t been engraved into my fingers; it doesn’t type easily like some other words that one of my niece’s keeps a sharp lookout for.

Two, well, I might as well quit numbering them right now, because there a number of things I realized.

I realized I have vacuuming down to a fine art.  It’s taken a few years of hit and miss and different vacuum sweepers to get here. 

I use a plug in that is central to every area that needs to be vacuumed. 

I have also learned on which side of the room to start in order to prevent cord problems. 

I like to start by the entry way and work over into the living room.  This gives only one dead pass when I have to move into the dining area.

Some folks, including certain women I live with, say my next action is uncalled for.  As soon as I get to the dining area, I stop the sweeper (vacuum is too hard to type) and remove all the chairs from the table and carry them to the kitchen. 

The womenfolk don’t do this.  They pull each chair out with one hand while trying to maneuver the sweeper with the other hand, attempting to sweep under the table with quick little darts of the sweeper.  They do quite well in balance and making it look graceful and all, but there are a lot of wasted motions in the process. 

Once I have the chairs moved out, I’ll vacuum along one side of the table, then I’ll shut down again and push the whole table over and vacuum along the other side.  I feel vindicated in this process; it is effective, efficient, and enjoyable.

There are no crumbs or bits of thread that can escape this approach.

But I realized something else the other morning.  And the realization, made during the last 10 years’ time, became a certainty this morning.

There is one more room furnishing that I move from the dining room each time I vacuum. 

For years I have questioned the legitimacy of this piece of furniture each time I move it.

The other morning my questions were put to rest.

Because I’m sure if it were not in its usual place, I would be off kilter each time I enter the room. 

Because it gives a sense of time and place, even wellbeing, if you will.

*****

When we built this house, I had a moment of epiphany.  In fact, you might say I sort of designed the whole utility around it.  Now to be clear, my wife designed this house, because when it came to getting it all down on paper, I completely fizzled out. 

But, for some reason, I had the utility in my mind’s eye.  I would have it a large utility.  This was easily accomplished by using up the extra space from the angle that our house sits on to the garage. 

I wanted lots of light.  Not for myself, no.  I had a plan in mind for someone else.  The light issue was settled.  We put 6 cans in the perimeter and one flushmount in the center of the room.  That together with two windows on the west wall to let sunlight in did the trick.

It needed a deep sink.  Deep enough to get my elbows down in to scrub without dislocating too much water to other areas and without dislocating an elbow by hitting the side of a too small, too shallow sink.  Deep enough to do small loads of laundry in by hand.  Deep enough to brine a turkey in the night before Thanksgiving.  I talked the sink idea around with the plumbing place I normally buy from.  They thought they had heard of such, but it took them a while to find one like I was thinking and the color my good wife wanted.  I situated it on the west counter, clear on the left-hand side. 

Next, and to the right of the sink would be counter space where garments that needed extra scrubbing after the sink soak could be scrubbed.

That followed by the washing machine, on down to the right.  So far, the motion would all make sense; sink, scrub, washing machine.

The dryer fell into place neatly beside and to the right of, the washing machine.

The next item took some doing.  I knew about them but hadn’t really seen them.  And when I found out the cost, it took some real bravery to pursue my idea.  But I pushed through with it, because it seemed like a nice idea, especially for the love of the one I was doing it for.

I found what I was looking for at Lowes.  But since we don’t have a Lowes close by, I had to have it shipped in.  It was the neatest ironing board combo that fit into the wall.  It had a wood door that we stained the same color as our trim.  When opened, the ironing board folded out and down, and a light switched on to brightly illuminate the work area.  It had a safe storage area to put your hot iron when you were done, and a timer for the light.  I built this ironing board into the wall to the right and at a right angle to the counter previously described. This way, when the clothes came out of the dryer, they went to the ironing board for ironing, and then on around the circle to the right to a closet with a hanger bar in to hang newly laundered and ironed clothes. 

That whole room seemed like the neatest thing since ice cream.

I think . . . the ironing board built into the wall has been used . . . maybe ten times. 

It doesn’t stand a chance.

Because the piece of furniture that sits over in the dining room, the same piece of furniture that I move each time I vacuum, is an ironing board, and on it sits an iron, 24/7, pretty much 360 days of the year.  It even stays there when we have company over.

But like I say, something wouldn’t be right if it wasn’t there.  It gives a sense of wellbeing, if you will.