World's Biggest Dork

I Googled "World's Biggest Dork Award" on images and couldn't find much more than pictures of geeks at Star Trek conventions. So, apparently there isn't any such award. However, there should be such an award. And today, I would be its proud recipient.

Today, we watched a bit of Al Gore's acceptance speech for his Nobel Prize on C-Span (okay, we're not total dorks, but while flipping through looking for PBS shows, I happened to see it and explained to the kids what a huge honor it is to get a Nobel Prize and all about Gore's work for the environment, even showing them a copy the "An Inconvenient Truth" DVD we're borrowing from a friend. All right, we're that dorky). As deserving as he is to get his award, I would be equally as deserving of the Dork Award.

You see, blog lover that I am (this may beat Emily's best blog addiction story . . . well, maybe not, but anyway!), I just knew that I had read something somewhere today about a woman fixing her own washing machine. And I really wanted to find it, since ours might have a leak.

So, I searched. I read blogs. I reread the same blog posts three times *sure* that I had read it on Dawn's blog (that Pokemon eBay lady who's writing a book). Nope, not there. So, I searched my history. And opened every tab already open (and that's a lot of tabs and a lot of windows) as well as those in my history. And I read through friend's blogs. Nothing. So I searched through email. Gmail. Every email and attachment from today. Nope. I was perplexed. How could this be? I'm SURE I've read that someplace today. I can SEE the words in my mind. White background. Black letters.

So, I dejectedly walked away from the computer frustrated that I couldn't find it after about an hour of searching. So, we tuck the kids in. And I'm OBSESSING. Totally obsessing. I do that when I'm feeling anxious--I think it's my attempt at securing some control. And our rooms full of moving boxes and things to go through and things to organize and things to do and family stuff and business stuff and homeschool stuff and gosh don't even get me started on the holidays (you know what I want for Christmas? To be unpacked, organized, settled in, caught up on stuff, and maybe even relaxed about it--or is that asking too much) has me feeling, oh, a bit frazzled. And the water leakage from our washer isn't helping. At all. We were going to finish a room this evening--maybe even hanging things up on the walls, watch a bit of a Ocean's 13 (Imagine!), and get to bed early. Instead, we're ripping up flooring, testing the washer, and getting little sleep. Again. (And yes, I'm blogging for some sanity--don't judge me!). So, I obsess sometimes. I'll call a therapist tomorrow.

Back to my story, we tuck the kids in and I'm in my head obsessing about where I've read that and why I can't find it on the computer.

"This doesn't make any sense. I know I read that today."

And then. Light. Dawning. Slowly.

"Or maybe I talked to someone about this? Like a real person on the phone?"

And then the realization.

"Terrie. Terrie!"

So, dork that I am, I run to the phone and call Terrie (I run since it's 9:10 and generally bad manners to call someone after 9--or so I've found out once when calling a friend at 10pm, which is what I thought the rule was. She nicely corrected me on that). And I ask if we talked about washing machines today. I'm totally relieved when she reminds me of our conversation. PHEW. I knew that was today. So, I heard it instead of read it. Big woop.

Oh, so what about the visualizing? The black letters and the white background? Yeah, well, I constantly spell things in my head. That alone should earn me the award.