Saturday, December 21, 2002

I don't know where I get the energy sometimes.

A clich'e statement, but it's true. After a whole day of working the Saturday before Christmas at Barnes and Noble, or Barnes and Nobles as the customers call it, I dragged my mom's power vacuum to my new apartment and vacuumed those wood floors like they'd never been before. The floors in the apartment are what a designer may call rustic, or shabby chic, which means they are in dire need of refinishing. The building was built in the 1880's, so a lot of feet have walked across those floors, which I believe are original. This means, small gaps in places where the sealing between the boards has dried, and years of dust and debris that has slipped between them. A simple vacuum would normally work, but these floors needed the hose treatment, where you take the hose attachment, go board by board, stick it face down on each crevice and let it suck everything out. With my mom's upright powerhouse of a vacuum, this is exactly what those old floors needed. Industrial strength sucking.

After vaccuming for two hours straight, I took out the mop and went over the floors with wood soap and warm water. That took another 45 minutes, as the place is huge. If I'd thought about how much work I was in for before I started, I'd never have made it, but there was something symbolic that fueled my determination to clean the floors and keep the blinders on to focus on the task at hand, and not on my fatigue and sore back. This apartment is going to be my new home, and I wanted everyone else's "stuff" out of it so I could make it mine. I didn't want the remnants of tenants past making me feel like I was moving into once again, someone else's house. Tomorrow morning, my furniture will arrive, and I want it to rest on pristine floors.