well this sucks….

It must be said, that my husband is, well, sort of, how do I put this……. compulsive.

He is, bless him, fanatical. I wish there was a more descriptive word, but I can’t think of one that fully describes his particular compulsion when it comes to crumbs on the floor. And it’s certainly a compulsion.

I suppose I should have been adequately warned, when – newly in the flush of our relationship I stayed at his house overnight for the first time. He cooked me toast, and proceeded to vacuum around the floor while I was eating it. He’s such a romantic. And over the years, things have not changed.

As he vacuumed, that first day – I remember him saying ‘are you surprised?’

‘By what?’ I responded.

‘By a man vacuuming’ – he replied…

Being the liberated woman that I am I must have nearly wet myself laughing, but his Sicilian notion that it was womans work, was well overridden by his fathers credo - if you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself. And to be truthful – nobody vacuums more throughly, or – it must be said – more often that my husband.

He vacuums the minute he walks through the door – despite the fact that I have only just vacuumed so that he doesn’t get concerned about crumbs on the floor. He will vacuum again during, and after a meal. If there are guests, he may vacuum while they are there – around their feet while they are standing or sitting. He is concerned that the “mess” will track its way into the bedrooms, where he doesn’t vacuum every day. During the day the drone of the beast will be heard (on a weekday) perhaps 6 times. When he has a day off, it is of course, much more frequent, and it must be said – that with my particular form of hearing impairment, some days it drives me completely mad!

Some days I could cheerfully toss the thing through the window, and I wonder what the effect will be on my children. Will they be compulsive as well, or perhaps never, ever vacuum out of sheer delight in the silence.

I have tried the greenhouse gas emission argument – nothing. I have tried pleading. I have even threatened violence. Today – mysteriously the blue creature has gone silent of its own accord. I am to take it to the repair shop to get it fixed (the lack of a vacuum will bring its own stresses to my darling man I imagine), and I’m not looking forward to the argument – this will be the 3rd time it’s been taken back to the shop, and now it’s just out of warranty by a whisker.

I am tempted to hide it under the bed for a week or two before I take it there just for the peace and quiet.