A Tired Life

I am so tired that my eyes are not yet fully open. The days of the week are running together in a timeless expanse of work and sleep. I hate that. When my life is so routine that nothing extraordinary takes place. Nothing noteworthy happens to mark the day. To create a memory.

Sometimes I can do that to myself accidentally on purpose. Or, perhaps, on purpose accidentally. It happened when I started reading Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. When I picked up the books (which must have been three or four years ago), I sat down to read them. Each book in the series is about 1000 pages. I sat down with the first book and became so enraptured by the characters, so transported by the imagery, that for four months I lived in Scotland. Putting the last book down was like letting two good friends go-- and at that time I was facing about a year before the next book came out. But I had managed to lose four months of my life.

I suppose you could argue that I didn't really lose anything. Anyone who's read these books can tell you that they are so descriptive and well-written that the reader is literally transported into a different time and reality. When you read them like I did, I believe you are transported even more so. I went to work, but any time I was not there, I was in Scotland. So, I could argue that I didn't lose anything of my life-- looking back there's nothing I miss. Plus, I gained a different memory. One of a lovely vacation while love, war, and time travel happened around me. While I was watching.

That's not the case right now. Right now, there is no magical story to transport me to another time. There's just work and tired and work.

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So, I figured out yesterday that I have a secret rebellion. I was writing out receipt after receipt after receipt for $45.00. It's time for the annual business license renewals so I figure I'll be doing it more. Anyway, I've decided that I do not have to pay for someone else's mistakes!

Mistakes, you ask? Yes, mistake. The word is FOURTY, not FORTY. There is no number that deviates from it's predestined spelling. You do not write Sevanty, or Saxty, or Atey! So, you should not write Forty.

See, here is what I believe happened. Some Monk, back in the day of handwriting copies of books, was writing out the dictionary and he got to the word/translation Fourty. But, due to a horrible error, he wrote Forty instead. Upon realizing that he had left out the "U" he decided to make his mark and forever change history! He kept the word misspelled!

They had all the power, I tell ya.

It's like the word masturbate. This word is spelled wrong too. They so totally screwed up! It should be mastERbate. Master makes much more sense. I am the MastER of my domain. What the heck is MastUR? A misspelling, that's what!

So, I have my rebellions. Let everyone else think I misspell words on their receipts. I know the truth. So hmmph!