The Vacuum Story

I know y’all are wondering how my trip went.  I’ll get to that in the next couple of days.  However, since I got to tell this at Mom’s retirement dinner, I’ll share the vacuum story now.

During my first 2 years at North, I got dropped off at St. John after school.  Many of you know that I don’t have a great deal of patience, and those of you who knew me in those days can attest to the fact that I had even less when I was 14 and 15.  So everyday, I’d be at St. John hanging out with Rob, waiting for Mom to get everything wrapped up so we (OK, I) could go home.

Many of you are also aware that Mom is a very clean and neat person.  Spills get cleaned up, and things get put back where they came from.  I came in one day, and apparently there’d been some kind of mishap, because Mom wanted to let one of the janitors know about whatever had happened.  Sure, she’d cleaned up what she could, but she also wanted them to know what happened so they could do some extra cleaning on that spot.

Unfortunately (for her), she was ready to go before any of the janitors got to her room, so she left a note describing the location of the spill/accident, as well as a brief description of what had happened.  However, I could tell that it was bothering her that she didn’t get to tell anyone in person.  I really didn’t care, as I just wanted to get home.

So we’re walking down the hall to go to the car, when suddenly Mom veers off to the right down another hall, saying, “Oh, I think I hear a vacuum.”  I stand and listen for a moment, and don’t hear anything.  Many of the lights are off in the hallway, and all of the rooms appear dark.  But since arguing about it won’t help me get home any faster, I turn to follow.

Mom starts peeking her head in different rooms, only to be disappointed each time that no one is in there.  Finally, she gets to the last room in the hall, without finding any janitor.  Semi-dejectedly, she turns back and we proceed back to the car, saying, “I could have sworn I heard a vacuum.”  Ever since then, whenever Mom hears (or sees, or thinks) anything no one else does, I’ll come back with, “Is that a vacuum?  I think I hear a vacuum!”  Twenty-plus years, and she still hasn’t lived that one down.