Somethign.

Somethign in the way she moves
Attracts me like no other lover.
Somethign in the way she woo-ooos me.

Weird song, right?  I don't even know how to pronounce the words in that song.  There's probably a reason George Harrison didn't write that song.  I bet part of the reason is that he was writing with a calligraphy brush on some kind of a vedic parchment at a monastery in Dharamsala instead of typing on a laptop.  All I know is, if it had been twenty-first century Wayne typing that song on a laptop, it would have come out "Somethign" the first seventeen tries.   Guaranteed.

I'm a Millenial, or whatever they're calling my generation; I mean I've been typing on computers since AIM was The Thing.  But somehow there are still words I use all the time that my fingers stubbornly will not learn how to type.  Maybe these words actually mean sometihng[SIC!].  Maybe there are subatomic particles out there called questinos and informatinos, just dying to make themselves known by shooting out of my typing fingertips.  Maybe wtih was a conjunction favored by Shakespeare before the rule-bound grammarians in the 18th century legislated it out of existence and history.  Governmnet, I'm convinced, is a euphemistic profanity employed by libertarians, along with its close cousins governemnt and governmetn.  (Governmetn's great, actually -- I may follow the libertarians on that one.)  What all these words have in common is that they have valiantly resisted the most dogged attempts to eradicate them from my first-draft prose.

I twice heard Brian Doyle say, If you want to be a writer, learn how to type.  Mr. Doyle, I'm trying so hard.