Can't... keep.... secrets!

I know I really shouldn't say anything too soon.

But I've always been a wee bit impulsive, and that's overridden any superstitions I may have.

And Dave? He barely had my birthday present in the house 10 minutes last week before he was dying for me to open it. (are you gonna open it? c'mon, open it! who cares if your birthday isn't until tomorrow! open it! it's so cool! I can't wait! you gotta open it!)

The bottom line is I'm really just not good at keeping secrets. I'm an open book kinda person - there really are few things that I just won't come out and say.

So, I'll come out in say it. Kinda. Perhaps a bit of back story is helpful.

In an impulsive moment I think it's fair to say we've managed to completely change our lives. I've read about it, and am pretty sure you'd have to be nuts not to think it'll change your life.

This will be both a shock to those who know me, and to those who don't.

The funny part is that while I suck at keeping secrets, I'm a planner. I have a grocery list (usually) and keep notes of things I need to get done. I don't do things on impulse (normally).

We already have a pretty full house. I don't think it's be unreasonable to say that we also have pretty full lives.

We hadn't planned on adding to our full household until we bought a bigger house and had a bit more room. It wasn't part of the plan just yet. We're happy with life as it is - the two of us, two big dogs, and two attention-demanding cats, our jobs, and friends.

Actually, I kinda glossed over that part a bit. Our dogs are huge. Freaking huge. While they weigh just under 100 lbs, that little fact betrays them. Some labs weigh 100 lbs, but they really aren't that big. Our guys though? They're tall and lanky (an irony not lost on their short and stubby owners). That means when they lie down on their sides they can take up to 16 square feet (I've measured! Take that, impulsive side!). Not to mention the shedding of long white hairs EVERYWHERE.

On top of that, we have the two cats. Scarlett is a princess and is pretty much the boss of the house. While I should give her credit for adapting to life with giant dogs and another cat, she isn't the queen of "I love change." Rhett loves everyone and everything, such that he bites things like plants and toothpaste tubes just to get closer to them. Both think the cosiest place to sleep is not their cat beds, but on top of their owners. Have I mentioned Rhett weighs 15 lbs? (despite being restricted to a diet of vet-approved diet cat food for nearly a year)

All of this in a house that's under 1000 square feet. Probably closer to 900. Most city apartments are around this size. But, life is good, and, somehow, it's all worked out just fine. (serendipity, baby)

How would they react to a new addition to our household? How would we manage? We've been barely married a month, and right away have decided to disrupt the peace by adding to our family. It's obviously not a decision I want to take back, but it's a bit of a leap of faith.

And no, I'm not taking about renovations (though I have to admit I'm still dying to re-do our kitchen and blow out a window to make a back patio).

I can't keep it a secret anymore.



Meet the newest member of our household.







We've (I've) named him Hairy McWigglebutt. He's a Roomba - a robotic vacuum. Hairy because of the trail of hair that gets stuck in his wheels, and McWigglebutt because his rear end tends to wiggle when he's going along a straight surface.

It was starting to get to be a short trip to the looneybin when I'd sweep the floors thoroughly and methodically, top floor to bottom, only to find that 30 seconds later I'd see dust bunnies of hair come hopping through, and the next day anyone coming to visit could be forgiven for thinking that the thought of owning a broom and using it had never crossed our tiny brains.

So, when we didn't get one for the wedding, I decided to hit ebay and bought one on impulse. After much delay at customs, he arrived on Thursday night, spent a day charging, and unleashed him Saturday morning.

We hadn't swept in more than a week at that point (no judging required, thanks) and just let him rip. We sat while Hairy vacuumed our house. What a glorious concept.

This past weekend he went upstairs and down, and we were thoroughly impressed with the results. If there existed a true, gritty test for a robotic vacuum, our house is it. I think the dogs lose a pound of hair alone every week, not to mention the dirt tracked in from the park.

Hairy's presence has been met with both indifference and annoyance from the four-legged part of our house. The cats mostly stayed away, unsure what to do with this dinner plate sized noisy (but not too noisy) monstrosity bonking off various surfaces.

The dogs were innately curious about and afraid of Hairy at the same time. A few times it would bonk into their legs haphazardly and they'd jump - not in pain but in total surprise. Each time it was more hilarious, until the dogs couldn't be bothered to be either curious or upset about it, and just lay there until it got too close for comfort and they got up and moved to another location.



The floors here no longer feel like they're made of hair and sand. It's freaking awesome, and as high as my expectations were they've totally been met.

I, on the other hand, am completely in love. I can't wait to get the one that actually washes the floors, the Scooba. Our plan is to name her Sally.