I’ve been thinking how bizarre it is to be one of those people who uses a leaf blower. I never thought I would be the leaf blower type, especially not the type to use one indoors. When we moved to the burbs in 1999, there were two people in my audible surroundings with a leaf blower. I imagine they happened to be in the home and garden section of one of the big box stores on the very first day leaf blowers went retail. They just had to have one, the way Homer Simpson has to have a doughnut: “Mmmmmmmm! Leeeeeeaaf Blowerrrrrrrr.”
One neighbor in possession of a leaf blower, I never see. I only hear. The shrill piercing comes from a northeasterly direction, and, fortunately for him, he is more than a stone’s throw away. The other one, because of Murphy’s Law, is located across the street from my house. The brick house, owned by a retired gentleman who prides himself in maintaining a thoroughly and loudly groomed parcel of land, never has a quiet moment to itself.
The old guy has a love affair with motorized lawn gadgets. When he uses that leaf blower, it sounds like a shrieking cat. I run around the house and slam all the windows to shut out the continuous high-pitched vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhh! Two octaves above what any living creature should ever be forced to hear. Another octave higher and there would be a homicide in the ‘hood.
The first time I used a leaf blower I thought I would try it when most neighbors weren’t home. I was ashamed. I didn’t want to become one of those people who makes all the neighborhood noise and has everybody calling me “The Leaf Blower Lady” behind my back, the way I call the guy with loud gadget love “Mr. Noise” behind his back.
The first time I had a leaf blower in my hand I didn’t quite know how to use it. I’m used to using a vacuum cleaner and this thing blows out not in. Plus, you have to hold it differently than a vacuum. A leaf blower isn’t on wheels. You’re not guiding wheeled weight that’s already on the ground. The technique with a leaf blower is more a matter of guiding weight that is above the ground, at the end of your arm. That’s where all the work is.
So I’ve got that nozzle and I realize there’s a science to all this leaf blowing. You can’t expect to get away with being able to blow those leaves down to the curb in one foul swoop. It’s not that easy even though it looks stupidly easy.
When you watch Tiger Woods play golf, it looks like a cinch, but then you try to do that and you realize how difficult it is. The same goes when you take up leaf blowing. You discover that there’s an art to leaf blowing. It’s not just a lazy activity overweight mid-life men engage in to avoid the rake. Men can’t rake. It’s too close to sweeping, which is too close to indoor work. If they wanted to do indoor work, they’d find a way to do it with a loud, motorized gadget that requires safety goggles. That’s how I finally got all the dust out of my living room. I never thought I’d say this, but men must be doing something right with their tools.
Leaf blowing starts out very simple, as just one layer of leaves, spread loosely across the lawn. But you get going, and it’s like a video game that sees you’ve made progress on Level One, so it says, “Now let’s see how you do at Level Two” and hikes up the challenge. Level Two is the two-foot wall of leaves you’ve built up in Level One that divides the leaf-covered lawn on one side from the flattened blow-dried grass on the other.
Level Two is a battleground where you have to switch up your strategy to get to the next level and then the next. Level Two requires patience, aim, and good side-to-side nozzle swing to topple the wall and force it to retreat to the curb as you advance.
We have an electric leaf blower. It isn’t designed for Level Two. While I have good aim and side-to-side nozzle swing, I lack patience.
So I take a break at the first sign of distress, which is another way of saying “I am done with that. What else is there?”
I come inside to take a little break on the couch in front of the picture window and oversee my progress. As I recline on the couch, my mind still in leaf blower search and destroy mode, I eyeball all the loose dust along the top of the 1970’s vertical blinds that came with the house. God knows the last time I was in labor is the last time I dusted behind the books on the bookshelf. That was nine years ago. There are dust bunnies forming under the shoe shelf at the door, and under the tables. There’s a thin layer on all the lamp shades. I look around the room and I’m thinking, “Hey! I could use the leaf blower indoooors!”
There happens to be an awesome cross breeze. I set up fans inside to blow in the same direction as the wind outside. One fan blowing in from the south-facing window, one blowing out the north-facing door. Then I shut all the other doors leading out of the living room to create an airlock.
I find an outlet that takes the three-prong plug of the orange, outdoor extension cord, and move any delicates out of harm’s way. I know how powerful this thing is outside. I am not sure how it will work inside but I can’t wait to find out. My cleaning spirits are renewed. I am enjoying fantasizing about how infrequently I’ll need to dust if I use the leaf blower and blast all the little hard-to-reach pockets of dust out of the house. Or at least the living room. I’ll start small. Maybe do the rest of the house, room by room, if this goes well.
I let that baby rip full blast on the cat-scream setting. I was a little nervous at first. I imagined books flying off the shelves, or pictures swinging and falling off the walls. None of that happens. Well, just a little swinging is okay because when I hammered those nails into the drywall I actually hit a stud, unlike in other rooms of the house. Let’s not talk about that.
What I did not foresee was all the dust fallout that filled the room. The living room turned into one of those glass balls that you shake and all the snow falls down around the scene. Only clumps of dust were descending on my couches and coffee table and carpet. The smaller particles floated aimlessly. The dust didn’t get caught up in the cross breeze as I’d imagined, so I had to stand on the south side of the room and guide the dust particles in the right direction. It required the same skills as Level Two of leaf blowing. Patience, aim and good side-to-side nozzle swing.
I don’t know why it is but I have a lot more patience dust blowing inside than I do leaf blowing out. I stuck with it. I went over every surface from top to bottom, across the walls, the furniture, the carpet, over and over again, until all of the dust retreated out the front door. I stood in the middle of my dust free living room, satisfied with my unconventional technique. There was a moment there when I wasn’t so sure it was going to be good.
Level Three is dusting and vacuuming. It doesn’t take much skill and it is boring because…well…because it’s not the leaf blower.
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