You crazy insurance company, you

Dear Insurance Company,

Maybe the rates to insure my flock of musical instruments wouldn’t go up every year if you didn’t find it necessary to send me reminder letters that my premium is due six weeks before the due date!

That is all.



Thisclose to sucking

Well, you know you’ve really become a wine-sotted Happy Homemaker when you start obsessing about vacuums. I don’t understand it. One day I was a musician, tootling away happily, and the next thing I knew, I was scouring websites for vacuum reviews.

My current vacuum sucks. Er, rather, doesn’t. And therein lies the problem. Pre-dog, it didn’t really matter. I am way gung-ho about keeping surfaces clean and uncluttered, but the deep cleaning…well, I figure with kids the ages I have, it’s just gonna get filthy again, and why shovel the driveway in a blizzard? I clean when I have company over (and the guys do the bathrooms every weekend), and fantasize about the day when I can hire someone to come do a deep cleaning every three months or so.

Enter Rosie. I love my dog. She is the perfect canine for this family. She is calm, wants only to be loved and have her belly rubbed, and came into my home already trained. I adore my dog.


She sheds like…holy crap, there is no possible analogy for how she sheds. I can do the Furminator. I can brush her with that metal torture-device looking brush thing. I can use a special glove and rub her all over. BUT SHE STILL SHEDS LIKE NOTHIN’ I’VE EVER SEEN. I figure I could easily knit Rosie a companion, but why? She’d just lose her shit over having another dog around.

My vacuum can’t keep up. My vacuum practically went on strike when we moved into this house with the new carpeting. My vacuum is the most temperamental P.O.S. I’ve ever had to deal with. Well, other than the temperamental P.O.S. on which I’m currently typing. Ol’ Hoover can’t keep up. And so I’ve been hitting the vacuum sites on the sly (no point in pissing off the only method of keeping my floors clean).

I’ve pretty much decided on a Dyson Animal D-17 or something like that. I want something that can suck-start a leaf-blower (name that movie). I want something that is going to get Rosie hair out of my couch, out of my carpet, and out of my <name it>. Her hair is everywhere. At the risk of grossing out anyone who plans to visit my humble abode, I have found Rosie hair in sealed containers in my fridge. How? How I ask you?

So once I have recovered from sending Uncle Sam a kidney, half a liver, and the top lobe of my left lung, I’ll be investing in a quality vacuum. I’d lurve to walk around my floors barefoot and enjoy it. I’d lurve to not have Rosie hair all over God’s creation. And I’d lurve to have a vacuum that really, truly sucks.