Where Have You Been All My Life?

So this morning, Preston and I were planning on going to do lots of boring official things like changing my name, getting a new PA license, and registering the car in Pennsylvania. And yes I know we've been here for a year and I'm sure people just think we're lazy for not changing our registration yet, and they would be right. We were lazy. There was not one day this year when we thought, Hey we both have the day off. What better way to spend that precious time than in line at the DMV?

So here we are a year later, finally getting our lazy asses around to it. Social Security went fine; our wait wasn't that long, and I had all the paperwork already filled out. And all of a sudden like THAT I was MFB instead of MFN. It was a little sad to think that the name my parents gave me when I was born just vanished into thin air. Or, perhaps more accurately, some government database. But I love my new name; plus, I really want my graduate school writing to be under one name, and I want to have the same name as my kids. So anyways.

Then we went to the DMV, where there was an eighteen hour wait. Just kidding. Three hours. But after spending yesterday vomiting up my stomach, spending three hours waiting OUTSIDE (not even inside, since the DMV here is the size of a very small postage stamp) was not looking very appealing.

So instead of waiting outside in eighty-five degree haze, we opted to take a much needed trip to Target. Because EVERY DAY should call for a much needed trip to Target. At any rate, we bought lots of new cleaning supplies. And that always makes my heart smile. After our massive cleaning last week, I told Preston that I would really, really love to keep the apartment CLEAN all the time. And then he laughed at me. But for serious. It really is hard to keep this apartment CLEAN; it's probably the most labor-intensive building in which I've ever lived. It was built in the 19th century, which means lots of great things: beautiful windows, fun and funky architecture, lovely floors, high ceilings. However, it also means that the building is simply OLD and sometimes a little rickety. Specifically, what makes it especially difficult to keep clean is that there is NO air circulation, meaning that as soon as I dust/sweep/vacuum, within .014 seconds, there is a fresh film of dust mocking my freshly cleaned surface. ARG.

While talking to one of my friends about this the other day, she suggested a Swiffer, so we picked one up while we were at Target this morning. And, having just made one circuit around the den, I am officially in love. It, along with my Stand Mixer and my new iPod, totally makes my list of inanimate objects which I would like to marry. The amount of dust/dog hair/stuff I don't want to think about which it got up off the floor is, yes, disgusting, but also AMAZING. And so satisfying. I can't believe I've lived this long without it.