I've always hated vacuuming. I think it started when I was a latch-key kid with my Mom and every few days one of my chores was vacuuming before she got home from work. The vacuum we had was a cheapy, but most of all LOUD. I've always been senstive to loud noises, and this thing was just awful. Anyway, while I was running it and the motor was screaming so loud, I kept getting the feeling all the time that someone was coming up behind me. After awhile I kept imagining I suddenly would feel the vibration of a foot scuff on the floor behind me or something. The house would be so quiet and me there by myself, and when I turned that shrieking vacuum on I just about freaked out and I couldnt' get it out of my head that anyone could break in while I was running it and I'd never hear a thing until they were there. Once I got this in my head I was just always terrified to run that thing.

Oddly, I don't think I ever talked to my Mom about this. I think if she had known I felt that way and was having that much fear, she would have just let me wait to run it until she was home. But I was embarrassed of my fear and it is something that held onto me even into my late teens.

I don't have that fearful feeling anymore, but my hatred for the chore and the noise of it (even though it's less than it was with that old vacuum), stays with me even now. I feel my tension level just rise when that motor comes on and vacuuming begins, either by myself or by David. I guess once one has a frightening experience with something, it just always creates a bad feeling with whatever is associated with it.

I don't really like folding laundry either, it's time consuming and when you are done there is no real visible reward for the effort put into it. When I mop a floor or clean up the kitchen, there is the visual reward of it looking nice and clean afterwards.