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Stream of consciousness III

Woke up this morning, and I had the allergy blues. It was just a little nose thing at first, but over the course of the day, it grew into a big nose thing. I think I’m allergic to dust. It abounds in my room, despite my best efforts. When I have to clean the thing, which is pretty rare of an event, I gear up big time: surgical-type mask and all. Well, I didn’t need one last time, but I would if I had to clean my room right now. I don’t want to think about having to do that.

What a weekend to waste a day, let me tell you. (Yes, I’ve been debilitated enough to do nothing except write in my blog, which requires little to no thinking.) I thought I could pounce on some calculus homework and maybe a college application, but it’ll have to wait till tomorrow. I feel like crud today. (I still say “crud” sometimes. Or “crudbuckets” if something’s really bad and there are people with fragile ears/minds around.)

The past few days haven’t been that bad, though. On Wednesday night I was talking online to Natasha, and we were talking about talking to one another on the phone. We had exchanged phone numbers some time ago, so we were talking about when would be a good time to call. I suggested the next afternoon, but apparently Natasha’s mom egged her on to call me right then and there. Luckily, she has a good long-distance plan, so that kind of thing is okay and actually encouraged.

It was nice to finally put a voice to the face I had seen. She has a nice voice. We talked for about 25 minutes on various things, but it was getting (sort of not really) late, and my sister needed to use the phone to talk to Lisa about every detail of the then-airing episode of Lost during every commercial break.

Last night, we wanted to talk again, and I wanted to be the one to do the calling for a change. (Might as well switch off, right?) I tried using Skype because it would be free to call her phone. It wasn’t until she picked up that I realized that my microphone wasn’t working and it hadn’t told me. That was kind of an embarrassment. I turned off the computer (which itself took forever because Windows needed to install some updates) and nearly killed myself to try to make sure that the microphone was plugged into the right place. It was a real hassle, but it was worth a try. Then I asked my parents if I could call Natasha. (“Who? Oh, the Canadian girl.”) They get very upset at the idea of using our long distance, it seems, so my dad tried to see what was wrong with the mike, but he was stumped.

He did, though, find a calling card for me to use. It had about two minutes left on it, so I talked to Natasha briefly and she said that she’d call me back. And that she did. Meanwhile, my dad, who will really go out of his way to help me out, got a good calling card at some store or something. I look forward to using it in the future. Anyway, on Natasha’s dollar (CDN), we talked for over an hour on various things. What things, you ask? It’s the most interesting part, after all. Actually, I don’t really know what we talked about in particular. Just things. We did compare accents. Our accents are mostly pretty similar, the only differences being in the little things like “about” (“a-boat” vs. “a-bowt”).

Random thought: It’s nice writing about Natasha because her name can be spelled entirely on the home row of the Dvorak keyboard, which I, of course, use.

And that’s that, really. I enjoyed talking to her on the phone, and I hope to do so again soon.

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