It appears as if she is intent on vacuuming. While her eyes are hijacked by the monotonous movements, her mind flits freely, imagining days of adventure and excitement. In this world she's eerily similar to the occupant in a fifteen-year old photograph, hamming it up for the camera. She thinks life has become hum drum. Her "third" eye notices a movement and without a beat, a free arm flies out to right a falling toddler. Sighing again, she continues to build a new world, as the babbling toddler tods away, leaving a chorus of two-syllable words behind her. A quick glance convinces her all is well with baby and she continues to create within her mind's frame as two boys chase each other vigorously in the back ground. A crashing chair barely jolts her away from her creation. She hears her voice ask if everything was alright. Yes, the boys reply. All the while, the spindly bristles spin.
And spin they do, while a little girl of ten, some where in the home, imagines wearing sparkly black shoes with heels, mind you. She does a small happy, care-free dance as she practices her bass. The burnished, brown, bass she holds and she plucks away at the strings. Yes, she thinks, soon she will perform in her first orchestra! How adventurous she preens. How masterful she'll look in her sparkly, black shoes, yes with heels!
When the spindly bristles fail to revive that well-loved carpet into it's former glory, the monotonous movements slow to a stop. A sigh, and flick of a switch dissipates a dew of a dream. Hands firmly on hips. She watches as the dew is reduced to a freshly vacuumed room. She thinks, yes life has become hum drum, and she's determined that this old home sees more adventures. She packs the vacuum away, as a little girl of ten, waltzes past. Plucking happily away on an imaginary bass.