Drawback of the Beach

Going to the beach is great. Unfortunately, sand sticks to everything, and the only surefire ways that I know of to get it off of everything is to use a hardwood floor or bed sheets. Showering at the beach gets some of the sand off. Wiping feet on a doormat gets some too. Just like smashing shoes together over and over seems to shake loose lots of sand. But no matter what, no matter how hard we try, whenever we come back from the beach at least forty tons of sand winds up on our floors and in our bed. Today, thanks to a mid-afternoon nap by LMJ and a Honda dealership lying to CJG, I was lucky enough to pull vacuum duty, which isn’t a big deal. We don’t have a huge house, and I used to vacuum professionally. The biggest pain in the butt is picking up all of the crap off the floor and moving furniture as prep work. The sandy grainy grit on the floor makes me crazy, and it’s like the sand multiplies. I don’t understand how it’s possible to have a centimeter of sand coat our entire house every trip to the beach but somehow we manage it. It gets so bad that I start wearing shoes everywhere in the house like I was in the shower area at the gym. I’d rather die than have my feet touch the floor. I hate having filthy feet, and when they’re coated in sand I’m reminded that they’re filthy with every step I take. But the difference between the way the floor feels on my feet before I vacuum and after I vacuum is almost worth tracking in the sand in the first place. It’s like the whole house is new. It’s almost like I’m on vacation, even though I’m housekeeping.