Nothing is free...

The other day I actually turned down my husband's offer to help vacuum. I explained that you had to be careful because the vacuum only worked a certain way and it would be easier if I did it. Truth is I was in a hurry and I didn't want to teach him. I also wanted it done right. My philosophy is if you are going to go through the trouble of vacumming (or dusting, or moping, or cleaning toilets...) you may as well do it right (probably because it will not be done again for a while *shhhh*)

He shrugged and watched me go at it. When I turned it off he smugly remarked that he found nothing special about my technique. I believe his exact words were, "It's a good thing because I was gong to get down and push it around with my forehead. I see now that wouldn't have worked."

I love him...really.

The thing is, the vacuum only really sucks on the back stroke. Actually it sucks all the time. But it was free. At a garage sale. *bad sign* My mother went garage saleing on our behalf and this one lady practically started throwing free things at her. Hence the vacuum that only smells smoky part of the time, the chair that broke a little more each time you sat in it (note that one is in past tense), the random, not matching shelf of doom, and the hideously ugly wall art.

Some things are not even worth free.

Except for help with the housework. That is priceless...

Really, I'm doing this thing...

I have promised myself I am going to start blogging for real. I am having a small personal identity crisis right now. (surprise, surprise, a SAHM having identity issues) I think writing would really help. I used to write religiously in a journal but now that I'm married, that somehow seems wrong. Weird I know. Journals are private places, places to spill out all those deep down things, sometime nasty hurtful things, sometimes secret insightful things, onto paper. To me it feels like keeping a secret from Bear. I would tell him anything in the world but I would still not like him to read my journal. Therefore it doesn't feel right. At the same time I need to write badly, it always makes me feel better. So here I go...

Also I fell sort of bad for leeching so much from the blogosphere and not giving back. I lurk on so many blogs it's not even funny. I'm pretty sure I have ummmmm, like around zero readers but still.


In other news, I updated the 'look'. What do you think? I feel so blog illiterate because I couldn't figure out how other people got their blogs to look oh so adorable. Then I found the answer! The Cutest Blog on the Block! They have hundreds of free backgrounds and accessories. I didn't look at them all because I totally fell in love with this one. The only bad thing is that I had to get rid of my three page layout that I was SOOOO proud of making. You would think as a third year engineer I would not be so daunted by a little Html editing but I am. :P

So...do you like it? Is the font color easy to read? It looks good on my screen but I'm thinking it could get too bright. Let me know...all zero of you.

I'm back...

I didn't completely finish because Bug woke up and "politely" requested a snack from the Boob Cafe. I'll finish tomorrow because we both need to go to bed earlier than we would if I finished tonight.

I'm estimating that I got out two of the big, black yard bags worth, plus a box or two for books and fragile items. I know full well that I let some things slip by but it is a start!

Most of it was maternity clothes. Not hard at all to get rid of. It was all hand-me-downs from my aunt and let's just say she has the tiniest obsession with floral print. The thing that I thought would be hard but surprisingly wasn't was my rocks.

For years I have collected rocks. Not particularly amazing rocks. Just ones that caught my eye with an interesting feature or color.

For years my mother begged me to get rid of the rocks. She made me personally carry them every time we moved in hopes that I would realize they were not the most convenient collection. She made me take them to college. She was shocked when I brought them into the house of my husband.

Well, tonight the rocks went. Not all of them, I wasn't going for a miracle. 57 stayed and 102 left. And it wasn't all that hard. I must be growing up...