This is my hundredth post! For those of you who care... If you look at my little profile thing-y, it will also tell you how many words I've written. Why we need this information, I don't know.
Anyone remember when Microsoft Word did a spell/grammar/intelligence check? I guess it wasn't an 'intelligence' check, per se. .. It would tell you at what grade level the work was at, based on sentence and word length. I had so much fun with that. I entered some Shakespeare - I think he got in the 10-12 range. Hemingway was around 5-7. **Take a moment to enjoy the irony** (in other words: Hemingway is often as freaking hard to understand as Shakespeare; another reason that The Old Man and the Sea should be banned from ninth grade reading lists. And Romeo and Juliet, which has been done to death) I wrote at about an 8th grade level throughout high school. But I'm easier to understand than Will or Ernie.
Last night, I couldn't get to sleep. I actually yelled at my clock at one point. It went like this: Me, tossing and turning. I turn to look at my alarm clock, and whisper, exasperatedly, "Midnight!" Okay. So the story wasn't that exciting, after all. But don't you feel that your life is enhanced, nonetheless? At least a little?
This morning, I didn't feel all that tired. Then I started trying to actually function. Ha! I went down two flights of stairs before I realized that I had intended to actually go UP one. I'm transposing all my letters on anything I try to write. I'm spilling coffee, tripping, and have been hypnotized by the sound of my sneakers on linoleum floors. People. This is not normal. I believe now, after a mere 3 days and a few hours, that persons who go into surgery are actually ALIENS FROM ANOTHER PLANET!!!
Time for an aorto-bifemoral bypass. Cool, huh? Too bad my bloods not green, or I might enjoy it even more.
I apologized to my clock this morning. It wasn't its fault, after all.
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