Friday February 7th 2014 Tim
Always takes a month or two to get the hang of
a new keyboard. The first week or so is spent wondering why keyboards
fall so quickly when under my care, and why the new one is so bad at
spelling. I'll describe it as a shyness, because the old keyboard is off
to the side sulking, and each time I look at it I feel guilty of
something, and I know the old keyboard is sneering at the new keyboard,
because it too remembers what it was like to be the new keyboard.
Then as I look around I am very aware that in the room where I sleep I
have four keyboards all of them bereft of the letters I,O,H,L,B,N,M and
pretty much all of the punctuation marks except colons and semi-colons.
But they do make for wonderful hatching zones for the tiny young of Wolf
Spiders, which I guess is why Lady Bird might be so attracted to them.
It is possible of course there is something I do, or some
fluid excreted from my fingers, or a kind of allergic
reaction on the part of keyboards to my finger nails, which
do sometimes need cleaning, and possibly I should wash the
grit off my hands after travail in the great outdoors.
It is also possible that somewhere in the missing letters
the great beyond is attempting to send me a coded message.
Some kind of anagram. And I would pursue this last
possibility if it were not for the fact that anagrams, like
charades, puns, baroque madrigals, limericks and the music
of Sting are up there with the expression 'just saying' on
my list of dislikes. The new keyboard, it might be worth
noting, has no tether or cord of any kind, and it has
an instruction booklet that must have been written for
Martians, and if ever you find yourself in this predicament
your best bet is to calm down, try to accept that the
universe will never be still and instruction booklets, both
ancient and modern, are not actually meant to be understood.