Not Nearly Swiss Enough

This is what I did today- while it's not a typical day- it's not atypical either. Somewhere in the middle.

I took the kids to school. Took a deep breath and drove home.  Once home, I prepared for the man from Kirby (vacuum) to come service the vacuum cleaner. I have the most UNSWISS apartment of anyone I know here.  Kirby is a US brand. If you really have some time to kill, go their website where there is a whole history of the Kirby.  Here's the Cliff notes version...invented by Jim (you guessed it ) Kirby.  They look almost exactly the same as they have since their inception except the vacuum got a headlight in 1923.  Fast forward. Back to my day (although they did shut the manufacturing plant down during WWII to produce war related stuff like torpedoes.  That's pretty interesting).

No one has a Kirby but me. And I don't really have one either. It belongs to the landlady who made me promise I would be responsible for servicing it.  Then I didn't but nothing has been wrong with it. Yesterday, a service rep from Kirby called and asked to schedule the annual service.  I was thinking that was a great idea because I'd since found the receipt and the vacuum cost a third of what I spent on my first car.  Our apartment also has wall to wall carpet; bathrooms included.  Trust me NO ONE else in Switzerland has wall to wall carpet.  The Kirby needs to be in excellent working condition. Before Kirby came though, I needed to clean.

I spent all day Thursday ironing.  I do mean all day. The only reason I didn't leave the iron on and hop a flight to anywhere but here was because I could also watch Breaking Bad on Netflix.  It was now tolerable if a bit dangerous. When my husband came home and I asked him to ask me (he needs to be reminded sometimes) what I did today, I told him I ironed for seven hours. Straight.  I thought he would think that was both barbaric and amazing.  Instead, I got, "Surprised it didn't take longer."

Friday, I resumed my cleaning efforts once home from dropping the kids off.  I called it good enough at 8:30. At 9:00 Kirby arrived. Kirby guy was very nice.  He took the Kirby apart and handed me three earrings and a bobby pin. He watched and corrected my form while I tried to put the vacuum back together.   We did all this in a mixture of English, German, and Turkish. Then he vacuumed. Once he got to the mustard stain (turmeric is apparently a deadly stain maker), he suggested I shampoo the rug. I, of course, don't have a shampoo attachment thing ( I don't really even have a vacuum, remember?) but for 395 plus 160 for detergents, he would come deliver the parts and give me a lesson on shampooing the carpet.  While I briefly considered this and he used some brush attachment thing to dust, we chatted about his family.

His daughter looks like his sister.  His son is 19 and didn't want to go on a recent vacation and his baby was mayor of the recent cruise they went on and 10 years ago he won $1000 in the slot machines in Vegas.

I next received a very demanding call from a child to PICK HER UP.  Picking her up involved taking her to shop for a birthday party present for the party she was going to this afternoon and feeding her. 

We went to lunch at the grocery store. The grocery store has a restaurant. Think a mall food court but all the restaurants are the same. And it's mobbed between 12:-1:30.  Tables are set up in three configurations; Starbucks style, bar stool and counter style, and high school cafeteria style which is where we found ourselves.  A mom with a baby was looking around without much hope for a seat. I invited her to sit with us.  Mostly cause I really like babies. And this one found me amusing.  So, I talked to him (in English- he didn't seem to care, he doesn't speak anything at all yet- we were a perfect match).  But my daughter found me embarrassing and I was ushered out of there.

That is my day. Which is an improvement from yesterday (except for the circus yesterday- THAT was amazing and Lauren was in it). 

But it's only 2:30 and most anything could still happen.

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