I Love Him: Part Two

Me: Seriously, you are crazy right now. Do you have attention deficit disorder?

Him: No, my attention is focused on this and it is not defecating.

I Love Him: Part One

Me: On my way back from the mailbox, there was a kitty on the porch. I pet it and it was so sweet and cute and I love it.

Him: (feigned excitement) Really?!! Are you going to get a kitty to piss all over your new house?!!!!

Nutmeg Reports Becomes A Pseudo-Mommy Blog

No, internet, I am NOT pregnant. But, in one month, I will be a homeowner. I. AM. SO. EXCITED! The process of buying this house thus far has been tantamount to conception, what with all the sweating and grunting and arguments and failed attempts. But we're there now, incubating and waiting. And I am nesting! Instead of doing the excruciating mountain of schoolwork that is sitting in front of me, I am on closet organization websites, weighing the merits of the Container Store versus California Closets. I have downloaded the color wheel in an effort to get my design-impaired brain to paint in more colors than beige. Which rugs in which room? Do I want carpet on the second floor?

The ultrasound, er, home inspection is on Wednesday and I will be taking many pictures. Am I allowed to take measurements while the inspector is telling me about the dangers of eyebrow windows?

I've Been Doing Stuff

What I’ve been doing:

• Turning 30. It happened. I freaked out a little. Then I got over it.

• Being in love. I am a demanding beast and he farts in bed. We fight. He makes me laugh. We snuggle. It’s amazingly awesome.

• Getting a Master’s Degree. Part of the existential-turning-30 crisis told me I need to educate myself more. So I’m doing that. It is a shit ton of work. That is an exact figure.

• Experiencing the marriages of four of my friends. And we’re talking see-them-almost every-day friends. This is a new dimension of friendship; I’ve learned not to call their new husbands “Mr. (Friend’s last name).” Dudes don’t think that’s funny.

• Playing with my super-sweet MacBook Pro. They pried Iris out of my steeled arms, but this new guy...he’s something special.

• Putting an offer on a big girl house. This will be my house. No landlords, no downstairs neighbors. It has both a brand new roof and kitchen. It pretty much was made for me. I want it. Badly. I’ll find out by mid-week.

End Of An Era

Iris is old and needs replacing. It has come down to this: I really, really need a new computer.

 

For over a year now, her screen has become increasingly pixilated, to the point where some days, I can’t read anything at all. For the past six months, I get a bi-daily reminder that her start-up disk is almost full. I know that all of this can be fixed, but I am not really sure of how to go about that. In addition, seven years is a really good run for a cute little iBook G4. She can rest soon. But my heart doesn’t want her to. Is it strange to be emotionally attached to a computer? I feel as though everything important that I have done over the last seven years has happened with help from or because of Iris. I typed all my lesson plans for student teaching and my first year of teaching on her. My certification portfolio was published on her. I applied for Le Cordon Bleu using her browser. She and I conceived a blog together. A blog that I cannot read at all right now because she is having a bad screen day.

 

When I finally get over my bizarre attachment, then I am hoping for some renewed blogging enthusiasm. That, and not having to email solely by iPhone.