Every now and then, something happens that reminds me that we are veering, full-speed and out of control, toward middle age. We're not there yet. We are an unusually youthful and adventurous (immature and in denial, the haters might say) 30-something couple. We rock pretty hard, most days. But we're on our way.
Chris bought be a present this weekend. It was a vacuum. I don't know what is scarier: 1) that he decided to buy me a new vacuum as a nice gesture; or 2) that I was so thrilled you'd have thought he brought me diamonds. You see, most vacuums in New Zealand, including the first one we got, are these very wimpy things with flat, non-rotating heads. They are no match for two slobbery, mud-tracking long-haired dogs. Then yesterday Chris came home with a heavy, super-suction model that has a million awesome attachments and roars like a grizzly bear. The rest of the afternoon went like this:
Me (shoving the vacuum filter under Chris's nose): Look! LOOK at all of that dog hair and dust that the other vacuum wasn't getting!!!
Chris (not looking up from his laptop): Mmm.
Me: No, really! Look! That's like, an inch of dust! That was in the carpet! I'm going to be sick!
Me: This is the most fun! Awesome!!! Best present EVER!!! Woo hoo!!!
In other news, I made Carolina-style pork barbeque in the crockpot and some coleslaw today. Baked beans and potato chips. Beer. Apple cobbler for dessert. Yes, this is a butt-widening, stroke-inducing, nutrient-deprived pile of deliciousness, but I had been planning and dreaming about it all week as my Sunday treat. Totally worth it. The heart wants what it wants.