Taken to the Cleaners

Posted on July 9, 2014 under Storytelling with one comment

Living in a vacuum

 

 

“I once was lost but now am found …”

Amazing Grace

One of the many challenges of aging is forgetfulness.

I attended a funeral recently and, at the sign of peace, I shook the hand of a woman standing nearby.  She looked vaguely familiar.  She called me by name.  This was followed by a twitter of angst as I tried desperately to recall hers.  When the mass ended, I turned to the people behind me, folks that I knew.  “Do either of you know who that woman is across the aisle?”  “Certainly,” said Duncan, an old high school classmate.  “It’s my sister.”

We’ve all misplaced or lost things during our lifetimes.  It is not uncommon for a man to lose his wedding band or for his wife to mislay a small earring.  When you are young this is no big deal but as the years creep along, this type of thing happens far too frequently.

But, truthfully, when was the last time you lost your vacuum cleaner?

We got the call on the eve of Canada Day.  Our realtor announced that someone wanted to see our house at noon the following day.  Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal because, with just the two of us home, keeping the house “viewing ready” is quite simple.

Unless you throw a six year old grandchild into the mix.  She had come to spend the better part of the summer with us.

The house looked like the aftermath of a tornado with arts and crafts, toys and books strewn in every nook and cranny.  One of the other challenges of harbouring a youngster who is far away from home is getting enough sleep.  And when Nana is regularly drawn in in for a cuddle in the middle of the night, the fatigue is constant.  Just like the good old days when our own four children were still under our wings.

We have just about perfected the dance that is known as “Prelude to House Showing”.   We both have our list of chores and we quietly go about our business.  We start by picking up and hiding things that are not shiny and new (i.e. most of what we own).  Once the beds have been made and the dusting completed I grab the vacuum and wend my way through the house, ending up in the basement.   It is blessedly cool there on these warm and humid days.

“Where’s the vacuum cleaner? “ “It’s in the closet of the big bedroom,” replies my wife.  I go to the very closet where said vacuum was last seen.  Nope.  Not there.  I do a cursory look in the other bedroom closets but to no avail.  The search continues and, hard as it is to believe, the vacuum is nowhere to be found.  Laundry room?  No.  Furnace room?   Negative?  Shed?  Nope.  She covers the same route and comes up empty-handed as well.

I haven’t even started to vacuum and beads of perspiration are forming on my brow and on my clothing.  It is the hottest day of the summer and, with the humidity, it must be 40 degrees C.   But I am sweating for another reason as well.  Is it possible, that in my 63^rd year, I am having my first major “senior’s moment?”  Could it be that I loaned the vacuum or inadvertently took it to the office?

Grasping at straws, I place a call to my daughter wondering if she may have borrowed it.  Hearing the loud guffaw on the other end of the line, I take that for a no.  I leave a voice message for our carpenter/painter friend who was working on the house recently.  I send private Facebook messages to anyone who may have the slightest notion of where the vacuum may be lurking.  Several respondents offer theirs as they are “like new” and not likely to be used anytime soon.

I am just about at the point of hauling out the rosary beads and calling in the “big guns.”   I am invoking the name of St. Anthony when I hear a giggle from upstairs.  The giggle quickly morphs into full blown hysterical laughter, as can only come from one person.

“I found the vacuum!” was the bit I was able to discern, as tears rolled down my wife’s face.  “Where was it?” I asked.  “In the cedar chest!” she managed to reply.

Why, of course, the cedar chest.  Why didn’t I think of looking in there?   It appears that the last time we played hide and seek before a showing, my wife decided that the vacuum (a small “stick” variety) would fit nicely in the cedar chest rather than a closet.  After all, we want prospective buyers to think that the house is always immaculate and doesn’t require a vacuum.

I am thinking of getting an electrician to install a locator device on the vacuum, similar to what we have for tracking down the house phone when it is on the lam.

Before vacating the house for the showing, I head to the flower shop to get something nice to grace the dining room table.

“I’ll have a dozen Forget-Me-Nots, please.”