On Sunday, I got my laptop back from Apple; they replaced the entire top half for the relatively low price of $464. This is the computer-repair equivalent of that thing that happens during marathon training, when you wake up and are super thrilled to "only" have to do a "short" run of 9 miles and then you realize you've quietly gone insane.
Brandon and I adopted Maisy almost five months ago but have yet to trim her nails ourselves. He bought this enormous scary-looking clipper thing, and every time we take her paw to attempt to do it she is all, "No ma'am, my nails are an acceptable length, thank you very much and GOOD DAY."
I decided to try again last week. I waited until she was very sleepy and then I just casually picked up her paw and I was about to clip one nail when Brandon freaked out.
"WAIT!" he shouted. "JUST HANG ON! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING? YOU HAVE TO MAKE SURE YOU DON'T CUT HER!"
His yelling startled both me and Maisy. I gave him what I imagine was a withering look.
"I know how to do this, actually, at least in theory," I said. "I've been cutting Sophie and Lenny's nails for years. It's not the same, but it's basically the same."
"Well you just have to be careful," he said. "Here, give me the clippers."
I just kind of stared at him, half because he'd freaked Maisy out and there was no way she was going to let him anywhere near her paws, and half because hang on a minute, you have zero experience doing this on any animal, ever.
"Do you know how to do this?" I asked finally.
"I'm not a heathen," he replied haughtily. "I looked it up on WikiHow."
We paid the groomer at dog daycare $10 to cut her nails the next day.
On Friday I walked into work and was startled by this:
And also by this:
Apparently someone in my building feels very strongly about April Fool's Day. After being horrified twice in the span of five minutes, I proceeded warily up the stairs to the newsroom and came upon this:
And then finally had the bejeezus scared out of me by THIS:
Allegedly the torso-less humans had big jars of candy on their laps - a prize for being brave enough to approach them, I guess - but any comfort I might have taken from that was negated by the damn clowns.
Who popped up in windows on two separate floors.
Points for thoroughness, but none for anything else.
On Saturday, we got a new chair and footrest for the porch.
I was very excited because we have a large, shaded front porch and all I have wanted since we moved in is to be able to sit there and read. I was also excited because I am in my 30s and so new outdoor furniture constitutes a big weekend.
After we set it up I informed Brandon that he could expect to find me there for the rest of the afternoon. It was really nice out so he wanted to join me, but was not interested in reading or doing other leisurely front-porch activities.
So he did this instead.
I couldn't stop laughing and finally he looked at me, exasperated.
"What? I'm enjoying nature."
Maisy graduated from intermediate puppy class last week.
To celebrate, she spent Saturday night chewing up her third crate pad, and dedicated most of this morning to throwing it up in the yard. A very educated goober, is what she is.
Brandon and I live on the bottom floor of a big old house that's split into two apartments. For the past four months we've been spoiled by a vacant upstairs property, but we have new neighbors now. They moved in last week. We haven't met them yet but I feel that I know a fair amount about them already. Some facts!
1. They are very fancy because they do not take their shoes off at home ever.
2. They are physically fit because they do a lot of walking and stomping.
3. They are fans of EDM! Somehow this counts as music! They like to unwind by listening to a long playlist of it on Sunday afternoons!
Nothing will ever be worse than when I lived next door to a ragtag group of hipsters with a rock band who practiced from 6-8 every day, but this is still kind of bad. (We might also be spoiled - when our next-door neighbors moved in they left us a bottle of wine with a note; these people saw me sitting on the porch yesterday and avoided eye contact entirely.) Last night Brandon was going to go upstairs and ask them to cut short their evening dance party, but the music abruptly stopped when he was walking out the door - maybe they heard us talking about it, who knows - so we just opened a bottle of wine and toasted our good fortune. We love our other neighbors so I'm feeling very "YOU CAN'T SIT WITH US" about the whole situation, but who knows, maybe the end result will be new best friends and a newfound passion for electronic noise. At the very least, they have not pasted pictures of clowns in our windows.