The Definition of Irony

So, you know how I've been complaining telling you all about my doomed little savings account where I've been squirrelling away money saving up to buy a Dyson? And how every time I get about enough in there to go pick up my new fancy vacuum cleaner, I've had to replace brakes, tires, a timing belt, a computer, a refrigerator, etc etc etc? Surely you do.

WELL, I just recently decided to scrap that plan. I literally said to myself, "forget it, Liz, it's never going to happen, so just get tires for Paul's truck." I nodded to myself in agreement and went in and changed the nickname for that account to reflect its new purpose in life.

A few days ago I realized I had about enough in there to switch out Paul's balogna skin tires for something that has a fighting chance of keeping him actually ON the road and going in the right direction.

And wouldn't ya know...this morning as I was vacuuming, my old trusty rattly vacuum cleaner bit the dust.

So I got my Dyson Ball at the PX, grossed myself out with that first run across our floors and diligently started saving up for tires. Again.


As a quick note, though? It is truly frightening that even though I vacuumed our floors two days ago, it was easy to tell where Reliable Rita wheezed her last. My previous statement that I own the messiest family in the world stands. Truly.