Dear No One in Particular,
The Boy and my birthdays are coming up, and the Boy's parents sent us our present early -- a Roomba! I can't tell you how long we've wanted one; we were just talking about how once we finally get some decent paying-jobs, we would blow some cash on a Roomba. We both stared at the box for a good minute before we said anything. When we did speak, it was high-pitched squeals and "Holy crap!" over and over again.
I'm hella excited about this ridiculous piece of technology. Most vacuum cleaners are too big and bulky for me to handle effectively, and I've been worried about the respiratory diseases the Boy will contract from having to hoover up the dried bird crap on our lanai, so the robot-vacuum is seriously a godsend. Really -- I'm ridiculously pumped about it.
Also: Real Simple magazine is pretty great. I read pretty voraciously, but there's something about magazines that thrills and annoys me. Magazines are like the sitcoms of the literary world: short, punchy, and flashy. They're easily consumed in an hour, and any substance can be filed away for future use. Of course, a lot of magazines can be total crap: really selling the reader short by cutting out substance and condescending to them.
"Real Simple", on the other hand, is substantial without being overly literary, beautifully photographed, and has lots of fun, helpful material. Plus, their stories are applicable to the everyperson's life -- a major beef I have with the Martha Stewart franchise is that no one with any sort of a life has the time, money, or energy for her projects.
If you get a chance, unspoken reader, pick up their special Travel issue -- it's amazing.