You would think that any day that starts with waiting on line in the post office to mail a tax return (and a honking big check) could only get better. You'd be wrong.

I'm the Matlab administrator for my lab. I just spent half an hour retracing my footsteps from yesterday looking for the thumb drive which has the Matlab installation codes on it. (This after checking that it wasn't still mounted on the laptop I'd been configuring yesterday, thoroughly searching the area around my desktop computer, and even looking in the drawer that the thumb drive lives in when not in use.)

Then I opened the drawer to pull out a new thumb drive. And there it was, the cheeky little bugger that, I could swear, hadn't been there half an hour earlier.

Of course, I still can't find my Tech Tool Pro Protegé firewire thumb drive, but at least I think I know who I lent it to.

So, I was getting ready to pay my deposit for lunassa's WOOL 2008 retreat. Because I'd just put a big car repair bill on my LL Bean credit card, I decided to pay with my Amazon credit card. But, when I pulled the card out of my wallet, I saw that it expired 03/08. I had no recollection of receiving a new card. Even though it was late enough that I really needed to go to bed so I could get to work reasonably on time, I started searching through all my piles of paper, wondering if the card had come and I'd piled it up with the junk mail that needs to be shredded or the magazine renewals that I'd decided to deal with later. No joy, so I quickly got on line to see if there had been any bogus charges on that account. Since I can never remember which of the brazilian user names and passwords I have goes with that account, I had to start by going through all the reminders. After ten minutes of futzing, I was able to verify that there were no questionable charges, so it was unlikely the card had been stolen from my mailbox.

Looking at the back of the old card, I found the 24-hour customer service number. It took a while for me to get to a human being, as a computer system told me I hadn't activated my new card (doh!), and did I want to do so. In addition, all the balance and payment information I'd already found out on line was repeated. Finally, I got connected with an actual live person who informed the that the new card had been mailed out in early February. I reiterated that I hadn't received it. He agreed that I should get a new replacement, and suggested a new number, just in case. Since I have other credit cards, the new card will be sent regular mail, and I'll get it by the end of next week.

When I got off the phone, I remembered that Friday is trash pickup. So I grabbed the kitchen garbage, put on a coat (it was raining), and brought the garbage to the curb. As I was locking the front door after coming back in, I noticed, on the floor under the end table closest to the door, an envelope with an anonymous Delaware return address. Yep. The replacement credit card that I'd thought I hadn't received. Oh well.

I don't have a working air conditioner (I have one of those portable jobbies but the condenser has crapped out and I haven't gotten my act together to see if it's fixable) and I really haven't much needed it this summer. I keep windows open, and I have window fans that can easily convert from intake to exhaust. Coupled with my ceiling fans and the fact that I learned living in Florida about strategic window and curtain closing to keep the house from filling up too much.

Last night I noticed more bugs than usual flitting around inside. More to the point, I noticed more moths than usual. This is a potentially a big problem, as I knit, and have a huge stash. Most of what isn't involved in current projects is stored in multiple layers (bags inside a canvas storage chest). But still. I'm very protective of my yarn. As a result, I spent a good chunk of last evening prancing around like a maniac, fly swatter in hand.

This morning when I got up, I went into the kitchen. The radio that I listen to while making and eating breakfast is on a cart next to the sliding door to the deck. And I was shocked to see that the door was completely open. Oh, sure, the glass door is usually open this time of year. But, the screen? That should be open only when I'm going in or out. No wonder I had so many bugs!

A few days ago there was a thread on one of the comp.sys.mac.* newsgroups involving trouble-shooting an annoying and mysterious beeping, not connected with what the user was doing. The original poster ultimately traced his beep to a malfunctioning USB device (a card reader, as it turned out); the system was polling for devices at 10-minute intervals and not identifying the card reader. Once he removed the reader, the beeping stopped.

So, this morning, I'm sitting in front of the TV, iBook on my lap, reading email and watching the NFL draft, and I hear a soft beep. Recalling the newsgroup thread, I immediately open Console.app and start scanning log files to see if I can get a clue. The beeping continues, and I consider turning down the sound on the computer. But I know that would turn around and bite me in the butt the next time I succumb to the temptation to click on some Youtube video or another. I check to see if I've somehow left a browser tab on a page that has sound effects. It's not likely, but I've done it before.

Then, as I pause to consider my options, I hear the weird Verizon music that my cell phone plays as it's turned on or off. Yep. Yesterday when I was looking for the credit card I'd thought I'd lost, I'd set my purse—with the cell phone in it—on the floor by the couch. So, the beeps were the low battery warning from the cell phone, and nothing to do with the computer.

I now understand why jonesiexxx has her (politically incorrect) "jonesie you drive like a spazz" tag. I try not to be politically incorrect, but I definitely need the equivalent. So, howsabout "dorkitude"? Yep. That'll do.

Today was errand day. The good news is that I made a shopping list, remembered, to bring it with me, and bought everything on it (and only two things that weren't on it). And I calculated correctly when my "get gas" idiot light would come on.

The bad news? I forgot the library book that I had to return. After that, I decided not to wait on line for gas at Costco and, as a result, ended up paying 20¢ more per gallon to fill my tank. Worse, when I got to my local gas station ($3.09/gallon for regular, god help us!), my credit card wasn't in my wallet. I'd used that credit card at Trader Joe's, and distinctly remembered putting it back. TJ's has customer-swipe card readers, so the card had never been out of my hands. But I couldn't find it, either in my wallet or in one of my pockets. Fortunately, I have more than one credit card, so I could still fill up. After I filled up, I checked my wallet again. I still couldn't find the credit card. And I couldn't find my Costco card either, and, what's more, I had no memory of the Costco checker having given it back to me.

When I got home, I checked all around the car. After all, I could have put one or both cards in the shopping bag, along with my receipts. Or a card could have fallen out of my purse when I put it down to wrangle my purchases in the back of the car. (One of the unplanned purchases was an insulated bag at Trader Joes, so I put it into immediate use for the frozen food I'd bought there and at Costco.) I had both receipts, so I figured I should just call both stores and ask about the cards. But, before I did that, I decided it would be a good idea to triple check. So I sat down and checked every single pocket in my purse. Nope. No cards. Then I started on every single compartment in my wallet. The cards weren't where they were supposed to be. Nor were they with my checkbook. But, hold on, what's this in the section of the wallet reserved for cash money? Whew.

The worry might have taken a year or two off my life. But I didn't have to make any embarrassing phone calls.

There's a lesson here, but I'm not sure what it is.