vacuum cleaner

We have a new vacuum cleaner at work.

Until now, every night, after the last customers have left the restaurant we have taken the broom out of the cupboard and swooped the floors to free them from crumbs and crumblings.

Now we have a vacuum cleaner. Instead of the slow waltz with the sweeper, we turn of the murmuring machine and attack the dirt.

The cleaner has changed our world. Now, the sofa is no longer able to held tightly to its precious pieces of gold and the dust balls hiding in the corners are left without safety.

The shift starts with the question “who is the lucky one to use vacuum cleaner today?”

I had the honour to be the first one to attack the floors with the feisty appliance.

The vacuum cleaner does not have a home yet. It doesn’t fit into the cupboard with the broom but is spreading its long tentacles across the floor, behind the bar, trying to get out, into freedom before its turn.

I wonder how long it takes for the novelty to wear off. Will we wait until there is nobody left, who remember the times of sweeping? When will the new and exciting no longer be new or exciting?