Sunday, January 30, 2005

Because She Could

I'm writing this from the couch with my trusty tried and true pencil and pad of paper. Well, actually, they are none of those T's. The pencil and paper were just close and convenient. I've sat at the computer several times this weekend to write the following events/thoughts/bitchy complaints and I just couldn't get around to opening up that word document and typing away at it. Instead, I checked emails, read some blogs, and cleaned the gunky buildup off of the computer mouse's inner wheel thingies.

Okay, time for a quick confession. For some unknown reason I find this task immensely satisfying. And like when you're sharpening a pencil with a little hand held sharpener and you try and make one long continuous pencil shaving, when I wipe the gunk off of the rollers I try and wipe it off in one long gunk strip. Which is the main reason I haven't switched to a ball-less mouse yet. Because cleaning the gunky mouse wheel is fun. And challenging. And... hey, quit looking at me like that! Sheesh.

So when it came to actually typing I thought of something better to do. Why I was procrastinating I have no idea. But I have some theories.

Theory 1: Blank Page Cooties

I'm having serious mental writer's block issues with this story I'm trying to write. I've got the first part written down in hastily scribbled notes and I keep trying to write it out in actual sentences but whenever I sit at the computer to do so my mind goes duhhhhh. The Evil Blank Page Cooties are following me wherever I type, no matter what I'm typing. And cooties are bad so I'm trying to avoid them. For the moment at least.

Theory 2: Crick In The Butt Syndrome

The chair at the computer desk is uncomfortable. When I sit on it I'm always shifting around, trying to avoid getting a crick in the butt (which is like a crick in the neck, only lower) and that's not conducive to the typing frame of mind I need to be in to type.

Theory 3: Computer Monitor Death Rays

Staring too long at a monitor all day at work is slowly melting my eyeballs. The computer at home isn't helping matters. (I think I might need glasses, but that's a story for another time. And another post.)

Theory 4: Alien Interface Interference

The chip the aliens implanted in my head starts to short circuit at the click clack sounds of fingers typing away at a keyboard. The chip has this self defense mechanism that keeps me from typing until its absolutely necessary (like typing this stupid thing for publishing status).

I don't know why I couldn't type this out first on the computer. I'm sure it has something to do with some combination of the above theories. Which ever it is, I'm sitting here writing this out by hand and typing it up later. Is this post really worth the time and effort? Probably not. But I'm doing it anyway. Because I can dammit.

You know, that'd be a cool gravestone quote:

Because she could.

Ah crap, its getting late and I need to go to bed soon (gah! I feel old saying that) and I've already written more than I thought I was going to on this part. I'm going to post this now and post the rest of it later. Maybe possibly tomorrow. For now I think I need to re-de-gunkify my mouse. :)

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