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It's amazing the thoughts that plague you at 1 in the morning when you are desperately trying to finish your very last law school paper. I find myself totally unable to concentrate because of this burning question: whatever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff?
Blame it on my genetic disposition towards expensive gadgetry, or my pregnancy nesting syndrome, but for weeks I have been cajoling, hinting, nudging, perhaps even begging my husband to agree that we need a new and shiny Dyson. It's not that I need his permission to buy things, but an investment of this magnitude is a decision that needs to be made jointly. The Dyson, if you don't know, is a ridiculously expensive vacuum that claims never to lose its suction.
My husband is a patient man, and a stubborn one - but even he can only take so much. The trick was to wait until it was his turn to do the vacuuming, and he pulled out our crappy three-year-old glorified dustbuster. It doesn't really suck so much as move things around on the floor. We also had a Swiffer Vac, left behind by the previous owners, but it doesn't really do much either and I am opposed to the diposable nature of the thingies you have to buy to make them work properly. Even then, it's no substitute for a real vac, especially if, like us, you have a cat and it's shedding season.
Faced with the dilemma of having to use one of these two machines to sweep up two weeks of dust, he finally caved - "If you want the Dyson, we should get it." I did a somersault with joy.
We headed off to Future Shop where a salesperson, clearly on commission, tried to sell us on the "pet hair" model, which was $200 more than the one we eventually bought. We stood firm on that and settled on the "Slim", which actually isn't really all that slim, but is a lot slimmer than the other models (most of them are HUGE!)
On the way home, Julian said, "Listen, if this doesn't work exactly as we want it, we should return it." I panicked for a moment, but I reminded myself to have faith. We brought it in - and he ran it over the jute Ikea carpet in our living area. Within a moment, he was sold.
This is what the canister collected in our 700 square foot apartment - it hadn't been swept in 10 days, which is a lot longer than we usually go, but not long enough to be considered truly vile, I don't think.
Welcome home, baby.
A gorgeous April tradition in Vancouver - we took it very slow this year, but there's still something exhilerating about crossing that finish line.
I was just going through my corporations notes for an exam tomorrow and realising that I may never type the word "tortfeasor" again on this laptop, and I may never again have to stop the autocorrect of tortious to tortuous. It kind of makes me sad.
Okay it's bad enough that our graduation ceremony is at the ungodly hour of 8:30 in the morning in the middle of the week. That's real convenient for my friends and family who might want to come in and see me graduate. Besides 8:30 am is just an extremely strange time to have a ceremony of any kind. Is anyone really feeling celebratory at 8:30 a.m.? I don't remember what time my undergrad convocation was, but I do remember that I had time to get my hair done beforehand.
But to make matters worse, I had to pay $50 to rent my graduation gown! Isn't the $30,000 I gave them over the past three years enough that they could spring to have a few gowns on hand?
And then - this is the coup de grace - after submitting my credit card payment, I get the notice that we have to pick up our gowns an hour and a half before the ceremony! Even law firms don't require people to get anywhere that early!
Add all this to the fact that suddenly nothing I own fits anymore since I suddenly have a belly, and you can bet that I am seriously considering just wearing pajamas under the gown. I don't think that will look strange at the Dean's Reception, do you?
We had a wonderful weekend - Easter showed off Vancouver at its best. The cherry blossoms are out in full force and the sun was out for two wonderful days. It is raining now, but still warmish and lovely.
Yesterday I woke up and went for a run - then returned to plant lovely things in planters outside our home. We made a huge brunch of bacon and pancakes and cinnamon buns. Then we went to test drive cars; we have decided it's time to upgrade, since our car is rusting to bits. After that, we meandered over to Granville Island and wandered through the market - we bought loads of rooibos tea and pizza and narrowly missed getting sprayed by seagulls as we stared over the water. I dropped Julian off for a massage - his birthday gift, and came home. The evening was topped off by a lovely meal at a pseudo-French brasserie nearby.
Today I've got a headache - a recurring theme recently, so not much is getting done.