I'm time-warping through this summer. Slooooooow warps, q-u-i-c-k warps, losing track of time, the date, and motivation to do much of anything.
Blame my husband. He followed up (his) hernia surgery with the gift of a new MacBook Pro, so I've gone from quasi-nursemaid to full-blown MacAddict in less than a week. I've been Facebooking, tracking down SMART lessons for kindergarten, listening to music, playing some games, and figuring out the bells and whistles of my new laptop. I know, poor me. Now if I could just figure out a way for this wonderful tool to 1) clean my house and 2) prepare meals I would be SET!
I'm not just reserving praise for the new kid on the block though! Not only am I loving my new computer, I also have oodles and oodles of appreciation for my four-year-old Dyson vacuum. Such gratitude can best be summed up with the following praise and testimony by yours truly:
My dearest Dyson, you are **So** *Exceptionally** **Good** at sucking up spiders, webs, and bugs. I love you.
No, really, I LOVE you.
Certainly you do a wonderful job of cleaning my carpets, and cleaning up cat hair that Anni deposits from time to time. You can reach all the difficult nooks and crannies of our house that seem to attract little Legos, dust bunnies, and gummy bears, and yes, even your fancy schmancy attachments make cleaning stairs and other odd-shaped orifices of this house extremely simple.
But Dearest Dyson, you make it so I don't have to touch b-b-b-b-ugs. Or spiders. Or their webs. Or the dead bugs trapped in those webs. And it is that reason for which I will be eternally grateful.
You suck, and I mean that in the most flattering way imaginable.