Don't you just LOVE technology??
Anyhow...
I think I'm finally losing it in my old age.
I just came back into the computer room to check my email (nothing, as usual) and read the diaries when I realized the computer was still connected to the internet.
This has really gotten to be a problem for me. There aren't a whole lot of people who call here most days, but there are those that aren't smart enough to call my cell phone when the home line is busy. So it bugs me when I forgot to disconnect the internet.
I've done everything I can to remember to shut the internet down. I could have SWORN I did it before I got up from the chair. I have learned that if I leave the office without disconnecting from the internet, I will never remember to come back into the room to do so. I've even tried leaving the light on so I would have to come back in the room in hopes that I would remember to disconnect the internet then. But what usually happens is I come back and shut off the light and I don't even remember doing it!! So much for reminding myself.
Besides, what if something happened to my MIL's mother and they were trying to call me?? I don't know if my in-laws know my cell phone number or even if they'd think to call it. My GMIL is getting up there in years, and her health isn't so great. I just like having the home line open.
At least I haven't gotten any telemarketing calls today. :o)
Have I mentioned that some days I just hate moving?? There are some good points about it -- I like seeing different parts of the country, and I like not really being FROM anywhere. No part of the country could really lay claim on me -- unless you count the entire state of Virginia. I'm not really from northern Virginia and I'm certainly not hick enough to be from southern Virginia, so I really don't have an identity in that sense. I'm just Karyl, from Anywhere, USA, like they put on the ads to buy address labels.
Although some days I wish I'd never lost my southern accent (anyone up for Burger KANG???), but that's a whole 'nother story.
My problem is I have a social anxiety disorder. It's really hard for me to go out and meet people, especially when there's a crowd involved. Job interviews literally make me sick to my stomach, and I am sure that the interviewers can just smell my fear and decide I'm not right for the job. So it's really hard for me to make friends when I do move -- but this time I lucked out. I know a wife from the ship, which is really nice, and my neighbors from across the street were more than outgoing enough to overcome my reticence. Going to functions by myself is just about unthinkable. When one of the neighbors invited me over to the Fourth of July BBQ that they were having up at the clubhouse, I knew immediately I wasn't going to be able to go. This is why I have roped VH into going to the ship's Open House at the Captain's quarters next week. I hope to God she remembers.
Another reason to dislike moving is I can't ever find something again. As a child I didn't move around quite as much as most military brats I knew, but it was enough to get me six different schools in my public school career. It also meant five different houses (when we moved back to Virginia after Dad retired, we moved back into the house we lived in before we left).
I've always had the same furniture (my stepmother's old mishmash of furniture, and then my sister's bedroom set after she moved out), so I tried my best to arrange my room the same way in every new bedroom. It never worked, though. I would think of a book I wanted or a knickknack I would have, and head right to the spot in the hutch that it should be, and it wouldn't be there. I had moved it when we moved. Plus it was just confusing because the first time we lived in the house in northern Virginia, I had the little room -- so called because it was tiny. Then when we moved back I graduated to the big room, so large that I had my full-sized bed in the middle with a twin-sized bed underneath one of the windows for when I had a friend stay the night (rarely). When I left for college, the big room became my brother's and I had the mid-sized room, which was now the guest room. By then every trace of me had been eradicated from the bedroom. So even within the same house I had no idea where my stuff was.
I banged my head up against the same problem again tonight. I was looking for my shoe protectorant since the rains have started again in the Great State of Washington, and I don't want to muck up my nice suede clogs. I knew where it was in the old apartment (isn't that a song by the Barenaked Ladies?), but I can't find it now.
I've stopped looking for it because you always find what you're looking for when you're not actively looking anymore.
Right?? :o)