The KitnzOfApocalypse are not amused. They are quite stressed because their environment is been rearranged. The world is not right. And even worse, the Dreaded Foofergun is about.

The Foofergun is the house name for the vacuum cleaner. It isn't a Dyson, it is one of the spin-off's, and it does a grand job of sucking. Herself decided it's time to clean house, so we did. My own contribution is limited, respecting those KitnzOfApocalypse Units weight lifting restrictions. But pusshing a vacuum cleaner about isn't lifting.

Listening to one's iShuffle (or MP3 player of choice) brings new dimensions to the process. Oh, I've often enough turned the stereo up and vacuumed; however, my venerable stereo is showing signs of it's venerable-ness. The speakers are sadly in need of work, re-coning on several of them. This will require finding a place that's willing to do so. And the integrated amp is in need of service too, probably just cleaning. Same problem. So I've not been listening to cleaning music for a while.

Until now. Until receiving that leetil iShuffle earlier this year.

Down around Biloxi, Pretty girls are playing in the water...

Couple this with some other thoughts, and vacuuming becomes a meditation session. I am not up on the name of the specific exercise, but I know my friend kenshusei will recognise it. I just call it the 'rowing' exercise, from my Aikido days. It's the skulling motions for rowing a Japanese boat; standing, hands out in front at waist height, in the exercise itself visualising holding the skullery oar but today with the vacuum. Feet remain in place, mostly, hips shift forward, back, transmitting the energy to the oar/vacuum.

Come on and join together with the band...

The beater brush head of the unit travels perhaps two feet, forward, back, and traverses the same section of carpet multiple times. There's no hurry doing this; it's time to suction mass quantities of North Central Baja Jorja sand out of the carpet pile, sand brought into the house by the Bros and Mamma Mudge, by the KitnzOfApocalypse, and yes by ourselves as well. Stay with the same nine square feet of carpet per each song on the playlist; that's approximately 3 - 4 minutes of suction.

I tip my hat to the new constitution...

Even the ceiling fans are attacked. Powered off and still, with the buildup of lint and hair and dust on the leading edges of the blades. Turn of the beater brush, unship the hose and attachments, and suck the blades clean.

Big wheel keeps on turnin', Proud Mary keeps on churnin'...

Meditation in motion, timed by CCR.