I live in a small town and when you think of small towns, you think outdated and behind the times. Not true with us. We have a post office and have had it now for oh...three weeks or so. The Pony Express was still working well for us but the darn horses were drawing social security and said they wanted to retire to Florida and spend more time with the grandkids. They're so spoiled.
I love it here but if you want to go shopping, you're not going to find any exciting stores here. By exciting, I'm talking Target instead of just Walmart and Kmart. Do you know anyone else who gets excited to shop at Target? Now you do. As a result of our limited store options, I do most of my shopping online.
Which is fine with me because that way I get to stay in my pajamas and never leave the house. It's beginning to piss me off when I have to leave the house and put real clothes on. I don't walk around naked but I have a very nice collection of pj's and sweats that coordinate very well. Sometimes I find a pink, flowery pj bottom and the nearest clean top is an orange and lime green plaid one. See what I mean? Perfectly coordinating. It's not like I'm going to a high society ball or to Target - I'm going to the kitchen or living room.
Even if I'm not shopping on it, I'm on the computer too much. I email friends a lot. I waste hours and hours of my day checking and rechecking if anyone made a comment to me on Facebook. When I finally force myself to get off of it to do the dishes, I create some emergency excuse that leads me back to it.
Standing there with sudsy hands, I exclaim, "Omg! I totally forgot that I wanted to find out what year Seabiscuit ran!!" I abandon the dishes and dive for the computer. I feel like some sort of alien force is sucking me to it. Maybe I'm brainwashed. That might not be such a bad thing because like the dishes, my brain could use a good scrubbing.
What's been driving me crazy lately on the computer is when I try to buy something, log into something, or just try to get info on Seabiscuit, this series of wobbly, distorted letters and/or numbers comes up and wants me to type in what I see. What I see is what the label looked like on an almost empty bottle of Boon's Farm Tickled Pink wine when I was 17 and in the dark trunk of a car sneaking into the drive-in movie.
I put on my bifocals and twist my head sideways (like the dog does every time he hears a cheese slice being opened) in an effort to "see" what these letters are. Sometimes the letters are jammed up so close together that I must dissect and examine them like I'm a neurobiology scientist (if there is such a thing).
I print the page and put it under my microscope. I gather all my colleagues around and we come to a consensus on a possible theory. We then test the theory by plugging in the letters we think we see and it fails every time. I then continue to keep inserting these same exact numbers and letters 50 million times thinking that it will work the next time.
I'll try all caps. No, doesn't work. I swear at the screen thinking I will frighten it into accepting my letters. Sometimes the letters will change if you don't get it right the first time and it's really bad if that happens. The letters you just spent 3 hours on examining are now gone and you must now reexamine a new set of letters and numbers.
"Is that a 3 jammed up to an "I" or is it an 8? That's the question your brainwashed mind will ask itself because at this point your colleagues have abandonded you and your work for a sale at Target. They didn't ask you to go because you are dressed so ridiculous.