I grew up in a household where Q-tips and painters brushes were used to clean furniture, and were the Persian rugs had special combs for the fringes. "Mind the fringes!" was a common exclamation (meaning don't disturb the perfect layout), and eating after dinner time just didn't happen - no way to put a dirty plate in a spotless kitchen.
Needless to say, I couldn't wait to move out, and when I had my first apartment at the age of 20 you can be assured things like combs for fringes were the furthest from my mind. I was convinced that the "neat-freak gene" had by-passed me completely.
Fast forward to today: According to the weather-man it was the last mild day for a long time to come. Not sure what bit me, but I decided to vacuum the barn, top to bottom. Out came "R2D2" (the shop vacuum) and I went to work, first attacking the tack room, then the stalls. I'm sure the spiders are currently plotting revenge for taking down all their webs.
While cleaning, I had an audience of four, peeking through the windows, wondering what all the noise was about. (OK, probably more wondering if it was dinner time yet). I have to say, when I was done I had great sense of satisfaction - but not enough to tackle the house and get some rugs in order to comb the fringes!
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