HE QUICK FOX jumped over the lazy brown dogs. The quick fox jumped over the lazy brown dogs, and over and over until it became oeuvré. But since they did not know any French (well, not any French language; they knew a few French people...), they went on trying to discover what would become the next, notorious and frustrating “key that sticks, so she would have to bring it back again and wait and wait and wait.” So on she typed trying desperately to exhaust the obvious potential for deception of the keyboard a well known fatal flaw which only became obvious after relaxing and thinking that it would not happen again, when, in fact, it would, but only after she thought it was finally over with.
HIS IS HOW Gertrude Stein would have written if there had been Macintoshes in her time. As it was, there were none, sadly. Instead, she toiled on an old crotchety Olivetti, causing large calluses to appear on her fingertips (which Alice would rub with olive oil to soften, and to taste). But that is another story. Or at least a different one. But this is not, as I was saying before. It is the same old one, the one where the new keyboard lulls it’s frustrated owner into believing that they will share a long and fruitful words–per–minute relationship, with a minimal of trouble and fretting. But no, the minute she would relax and think, “ah, finally. A keyboard with no sticky keys or other malady...” the damn thing would proceed to act up. Then she would try to ignore it. Try to make herself believe that it was her imagination, her lack of finger integrity that was causing a psychosomatic problem with the keyboard that really did not exist. “Yes,” she would say to herself. “That’s it. It’s all in my head.” But it was not. And because Michael would not confirm her suspicions until she started actually to believe what she suspected, time would drag before she would take action. Typical.
HE AGGRAVATION was really too much, after all. What she really wanted to think was that it would all go away, without her having to go through the effort of dragging the damn thing back into Computer City and telling them it was still under warranty and did this usually happen to this type of keyboard was it a continuing problem or was it just her misfortune? Then wait forever and a day, whichever came first to get a back ordered (so they said) keyboard to replace the old sneaky and diabolical one that waited so long to act up in the first place. Now we call. They do not. We call again. Still nothing. More than a month goes by but still nothing. What service? At least we have a keyboard that is so boring and worn in, that the sneakiness is all done with. It works. Sure. But where are all the bells and whistles that caused her to buy the first one? Where is the anti-carpal tunnel configuration she longs for? The array of F keys? But it works. Who can argue with that? Then why did I pay $120 for a fancy keyboard that adjusts and everything? Vanity? Sanity? OSHA? No. Because I wanted one, that’s why. That’s it.
WANTED IT JUST SO and this was it. And why shouldn’t I? Because I’d rather wish than have? No. It’s just that because the keyboard seems to be inherently smarter than I (who’s to say?), it appears to have gotten the better of me on two separate occasions. They must have been evil twins. And still I want another. The keyboards have managed to get the better because they have been clever enough to figure out how to get a vacation in the same space that I have not. The same space I have awaited the other evil twin’s return. Of course, maybe something awful happened to the first and second keyboard twins that I don’t know about. Maybe I am being unjust in accusing them of using their positions of power strictly for their personal gain and my detriment. I don’t know. What I do know is that this time, this one is still laying low. They say that it is unusual, never happens, seems to be the first of its kind to act up, go on vacation, say toodle–loo to a once happy consumer of Apple products. You see, stream of consciousness isn’t so bad once you try it. Especially when waiting for the Godot of keyboards in an absurdist play by Computer City (the lesser known twentieth century playwright).
UT FOR NOW we are content, between the two of us, although one of us has sore shoulders and has just had a miserable fight with our significant other over a matter of statistics and socio–political reality. It may be that the shoulders are just being ornery too (in sympathy for the plight of the keyboard, no doubt). I hope not. No telling where it will stop once the desk top devices organize. Will it be a mixed local? Or will the CPU be its own based on the skilled nature of its work versus the relatively unskilled, menial labor of its compatriots in the file cabinet and pencil holder classes... Will the printer, not having a brain technically, join with the CPU? Or will it be caught in between? The joystick may seem more trivial too, considering that it is not really in the “work” category of office materials. And paper may be in the lowest pay category, being an expendable (that may be contested verbiage, of course...). Reference books may stay out of the fray altogether. And maybe this has all been more than enough to test out the resolve of the new keyboard for its first go round. After all, things must be gotten to. Like work. Like diddling away the rest of my spare time, whatever that really is. Spare. In the sense that it is a precious commodity or that it is extra, I don’t know. And I haven’t even gotten to the F–keys yet. Oh my. Guilt is a terrible thing wasted on the guilty, isn’t it? One may never know, especially if she continues to think about it instead of twiddling away the rest of her time, like she ought to. I guess now is as good a time as any, eh?