When I say Maria is not domestic, I truly mean that Maria is not domestic.
In our nearly eight years together, the only domestic things she ever buys for the house is dishwater detergent, and only then, if she happens to be in a pharmacy. Otherwise, she wants weeks for me to do it.
I buy everything else. She has never bought a vacuum cleaner, or to my mind touched one except to help unclog them if they get clogged. She just does not buy anything except art supplies, she is allergic to buying things, she is the enemy and worst night mare of the retail economy.
When the soldiers of the Corporate Nation come for us, they will take her first.
Today, she went out to Glens Falls, N.Y., to pick up one of her sewing machines, which needed some cleaning and repairs. When she came in, she was breathless. “You won’t believe what I did!,” she said. “I bought a vacuum cleaner, it cost $200 and is supposed to be terrific.”
I was shocked, stunned into silence. We have so much dog hair and farm dirt and smells in our farmhouse we hire someone to come in every couple of weeks and if she can’t come I do it.
I have gone to the hardware store several times to buy those small and light and cheap ones. I have never known Maria to spent $200 on anything, and she has never, in all my time with her, ever bought anything retail other than toilet paper and soap.
This shiny black Electrolux seems great, it has a lot of power and a two-year warranty and bags that last a year. The vacuum cleaner man – his name is Charlie – also cleans sewing machines. He said it was the best vacuum cleaner he had ever used. Maria must have really liked him, she has little truck with sales people.
Maria further astonished me by saying she wanted to try it out – it is great, she said – “but this is the last time you’ll ever see me doing this.” I knew history was made, my camera was right nearby and I grabbed a shot, this is for history. I know I will not see it again either.
Maria has no appetite for domestic work, it just never crosses her radar. It’s not that she is lazy or above it. She works like a demon.
She paints and plasters and designs rooms, and she does almost all of the heavy farm chores and hauls firewood and hay around, and is good with a hammer and drill, but domestic work is a symbol for her of the loss of her art for many years. It has creepy implications for her. I like to shop and cook and am happy to do both.
She said she thought about calling me and asking me about the vacuum cleaner – this is a big deal, for her to do this – and I told her it was great that she didn’t. She told Charlie I would be stunned. It was a great decision, our cheap little one is falling apart again and misses a lot of dust and hair, and she certainly didn’t need to run it by me, or let me know.
She said she knew I would be amazed and wanted to see my surprise. She did. I was speechless. I tried it out. It’s great. History was made, and this is an image you and I will, in fact, mostly likely never see again.