I hit the snooze button this morning for a very specific reason.

I was dreaming about having an argument with Zack over which trashcan I put in what room in the house, and I really wanted to see how it turned out. Would the wood trash can wind up in the kitchen?! Would I consider brushed metal? And where can I find a wooden trashcan in real life? — These are all questions that did not get answered. I’m seriously starting to doubt my sleep-drunk decision making abilities.

Yesterday two ladies in the office asked me questions about their cell phones. I always assume that when people ask me questions about cell phones, it’s because they know that I used to work for Cingular, and that I’m a trained cell phone guru. Whilst I was bragging/(complaining?) about this to Zack last night, he noted that perhaps the 75 year old women were asking for my help, not because I’m such a badass, but maybe cause I’m 50 something years younger and was birthed into the age of technology.

I refused to believe that his assessment was true, assuring myself that the genius that is my bank of cell phone information was clearly shining through. And also, I’ve mentioned that I worked at Cingular. Then today another lady (60?) asked for my help with a Microsoft Word document that she was trying to edit. “Every time I try to type something,” she complained, “the cursor keeps eating what I’ve already written! I know I used to be able to just type, and the rest of the words would… mmmoooovveee. “

Imagine her delight when I introduced her to the “Insert” button.

So I forfeit. I guess they don’t ask me complicated-technology based question because of my vast repertoire of knowledge, rather they ask me because of my decidedly baby face and noticeable lack of wrinkles.

Six of one, right?