New and Improved

Imagine D’s surprise when the first time I took ADD medication, my lifelong cleaning paralysis seemed to vanish within hours. Those first few months brimmed with small miracles. With little effort I accomplished things that used to exhaust me. Counters were wiped, laundry folded, and floors mopped. I took ADD expert Sari Solden’s advice to take on piles of clutter one at a time, doing so for the next several months.

Imagine D’s even bigger surprise when I asked for a vacuum cleaner for my birthday. This from the same woman who told him before we were engaged 20 some years ago, that if he thought I was going to morph into a maid once we were married, he had the wrong bride. Because I wanted to implant an enduring visual, I threatened to wear a house dress instead of a wedding gown if he was unwilling to renounce any surplus hope of marrying cleaning lady Barbie.

My surprise was the biggest of all. (And I don’t think that’s because this surprise was MINE, but I’ll get back to you.) I assumed I had D so brainwashed about the perils and misguided nature of giving appliances to me as gifts, that he wouldn’t consider it. Turns out he ran with this concept, latching onto it wholeheartedly even though I only asked for a vacuum in passing exactly one time. Stealthily, he undertook some serious research – something I’ve only witnessed him do in the mornings with the sports page and cereal boxes. The new version of myself ended up with a Miele.

For those of you who don’t know, the German engineered Miele is the uber to beat all uber of vacuums. Even medicated, I’m not sure I have fully grokked the appeal of this Ultimate Vacuuming Machine. But at least I’m using the thing. Most surprising to me is what must have been D’s longterm frustration with the old version of me, which clearly we had in common.

“Luxury vacuuming” has become both my favorite new oxymoron and least dreaded chore. (I didn’t enthuse over housework after the first few months on meds, but I rather like being a little better at things and also able to recognize myself.) I regard my old Kenmore in a way formally reserved for my afflicted old Ford Taurus. (I became quite the hotrodder when I upgraded to the Honda Odyssey.) Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten some valuable insight into midlife marriage.