We are Gazelles

This morning, I found two eggs perched in the middle of the window-seat in the library/dining-room/ room where Holly folds her laundry and then leaves it in piles until the mood to put it away strikes. Which occurs maybe once a week.

As soon as I saw the eggs, I was sure it was going to be a good day. The eggs, which had obviously been retrieved and transported from the refrigerator to the window-seat by twin A or twin B, were fully in tact, not a crack in them. So there was that to be grateful for. Oh- and I was hit with profound inspiration: egg salad for lunch!

This is the way life has seemed, lately- just teetering on the border of total disaster. Like the day the hot-water heater went. I was using the microwave and the stove at the same time, which is a big no-no in our house, when I blew the fuse. After muttering, John went into the basement to switch the power back on and discovered an impending flood. If the fuse had not blown, John would probably not have ventured into the basement that night, and 25 gallons of water would have seeped out of the heater and totally ruined my gift bag collection, which is about eleven years old. It is an enviable gift bag collection, I might add.

The hot-water heater died just a few days after my vacuum went kaput. I knew the vacuum was getting old. It had begun to act ornery, only cleaning one room before it would refuse to work anymore. I would let it rest a half an hour before proceeding. Vacuuming turned into an all-day event. Then one day it wouldn’t start at all. I hope my calling it a petulant bi*%* isn’t the reason why.

Unfortunately, I did not run right out and buy a new vacuum. This is because I am a gazelle. (I'll explain that in a minute.) We decided to really research vacuums and get one that would last more than three years. (Not might be a good time to let you know that if I were you, I would not buy a Hoover.)

I reminded John after the water heater was replaced that we also needed to get a new vacuum. He gave me his “intense look” and said, “Let’s take one thing at a time now.”

Does he really think going without a vacuum is a viable option? And let me tell you what, my “intense looks” rival his any day.

John and I are doing a “Total Money Makeover.” This is based on a book of the same name. We have made a rather strict budget and are committed to getting out of debt. We’re in it for the long-haul, like gazelles, and do not plan to go fast at first only to peter out later, like a cheetah. This is a metaphor. It’s from the book.

In a year, we should be able to refinance our 30-year mortgage into a 15-year mortgage and start making major payments on the loan we took out for the modest house in the Hamptons that we can’t visit as it is inhabited by zombies. By “modest house in the Hamptons” I mean school loans, and by “zombies” I mean loan officers. This is also a metaphor. I made it up myself.

We remain vacuum-less. It’s pretty awful. My broom and I have been getting better acquainted. I guess we’re looking for a great vacuum sale or something because gazelles are smart shoppers.

Speaking of smart, last night my dad asked Caleb who he thought was smarter, his mommy or his daddy. You may think that this is kind of a sick question to ask a kid, which may be true, but we wanted to know.

Caleb, without pause, said, “Oh, my dad.”

“WHAT?” I shrieked. He looked frightened.

“I’m not mad,” I promised. “I just want to know why you think that.”

“Because lots of times I ask you questions and you always say, go ask dad…”

I wanted to tell them that it wasn’t because I’m not smart, but rather, because I am inherently lazy. And since about 80% of Caleb’s questions are either hockey or baseball related, I feel John has a slight edge on the “appearing smart” scale.

Signing off now. Laundry to fold in the library/dining-room/room where Holly folds laundry…