Every Good Boy Does Fine. All Cows Eat Grass. Who wouldn’t want to wake up to mnemonics running through one’s head? And why was music theory (learning the notes on the staff with these sentences) occurring simultaneously with Alanis Morrisette’s, “Hand in my Pocket” inside my head at 6:23 am? And while we’re on it, what was “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country?”
Well, the answer to the last question is the old-termed “typing class,” not keyboarding 101. Remember that one? I will proclaim that it was the singularly most useful class I ever had. I took It with the people NOT in the business classes, so we had about ten kids in there. My goal was to be tops in typing the fastest! I made 65 words per minute with three errors. And with only nine other competitors, I think I made the bulletin-board-of-fame one month. (The “Now is the time…” sentence was used – thank you Google – because it exactly fit the 70-space line we had to type. Valuable information.)
The longer lasting achievement is that occasionally I still type conversations in my head, or homilies, or television show dialogue, all with barely perceptible movement of my nimble fingers. Often I type the news seeing if I can keep up with the broadcaster. You probably do this, too, don’t you?
Thankfully, I was only practicing music this morning and I did not wake up typing anything. If only I could get my exercise in my dreams!