Four Point Six (Six, Six, Six...) Sneezes

I got hung up on a word again, today: "switch hook," this time. A switch hook, for the uninformed, is part of a telephone cradle. If you push it, it ends your call. Apart from the switch hook hangup (ha, ha), the writing went okay. ("It went okay?" When did I start talking like that? In March, that's when. Howard Glassman said "okay" a lot. He always spelled it out: "o-k-a-y." Pre-Howard, I didn't say it terribly often, and when I did, I put "OK.")

Speaking of telephones, I rang Mother last night: "Hi, Mother. Sorry to ring so late. Only, I forgot your birthday this year, so I thought I'd wish you a happy Mothers' Day instead."

"Mothers' Day was yesterday," she said.

Oops. I need to register with a reminder service. I never remember a thing, if it doesn't involve eating or sleeping--and even then, I'm not 100% reliable. If it wasn't for the novel, I wouldn't even know what day of the week it was. (I'm only writing on weekdays--I've got to keep track so's I'll know when to slack off. Today, for instance, it's Tuesday. That means tomorrow's Wednesday, and it's three days, two hours, and six thousand words till blob time.)

I got my new credit card last night. It has ten digits in common with my old one, if you don't count the three-digit security code, and eleven if you do. I wish I could remember the bills that get charged to it as well as I can remember the numbers, themselves. I updated the cable company, the power company, TypePad, PayPal, FedEx, and there.com, but there were eight companies making charges, not six. What the hell were the other two? Oh--there's that AOHell subscription I've been trying to cancel for the last six months--that's seven. And dialupatcost.ca (my backup Internet provider--don't laugh)--that's eight. I think I'll leave AOHell. They ought to get the message when the transaction is refused.

Dear God. What a bore I've become: that's been five paragraphs on how I found a word, spoke to my mother, and got a new credit card. In other news (but, really, more of the same), the weather is fine today. The sun is up, the sky is blue, and I've sneezed fourteen times in the last three minutes. That's 4.67 sneezes per minute. I had to use thirty milligrams of promethazine hydrochloride last night, but it hasn't left me hung over this time. Strange.

I've got to find something exciting to do, this weekend, something I can report on come Monday.