A Lengthy Excuse

I was going to post yesterday, I really was, but then two things happened: I started reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and my already special computer developed a whole new set of disabilities.

If you haven’t read Guernsey, you probably should. I know a couple of people who were thrown off a bit by the epistolary style—lots of characters writing lots of letters to one another—but if you can get over the format (or if you can listen to it on tape) it’s lovely. Cosy and book-loving and LOVELY. I started it in earnest yesterday, and I finished it up before bed. A highly satisfactory day.

Less satisfactory: my computer.

Yes, so I sat down to do some work for my brother since I got approximately NOTHING done last week… popped open the file, started typing… and a bunch of numbers came blopping out. As in: I was going to write “new draft for AP story page” and the computer helpfully added “19298239803” to my word document.

I’ve known my laptop was dying a slow death for a while, but this was a new one.

Yet I am nothing if not resourceful, and we happen to have an external keyboard for the laptop that sits on a lower, roll-out desktop (so convenient for short people who type too much and worry about annoying things like carpal tunnel—which I accidentally typed as crapal tunnel just now. And it really is). So I plugged in the external keyboard and happily typed “newdraftfortheAPstorypage.”

Apparently the space bar is broken.

I mean, in one sense it was a delicious thing. I really COULDN’T work in conditions like that, Carl having taken his laptop to work that day. So there really wasn’t anything to do but read Guernsey and wander around scrubbing random fixtures in the digs. An ideal sort of day, right? Then again, I really hadn’t considered the strength of my social media addictions. Not so much Facebook, although that used to be a major time sink for me. But I joined a couple of online forums for various interests in the last couple of years, and while I could scroll through the new topics and read everyone’s latest thoughts on this or that… I COULD NOT COMMENT.

But I must comment!

I can’t hear someone talking about the convergence of borderline and narcissistic personality disorders and not say something. Don’t be foolish. I can’t listen to creative-type women chat about how lovely and supportive their husbands are without PUTTING IN A GOOD WORD FOR MINE.

Unthinkable.

So there I am, henpeck typing on the external keyboard with my left hand, my right hand poised on the other keyboard’s functional spacebar, HOWLING in frustrated rage at the slow dribble and false starts of my sentence construction. Manageable for 3 sentences. Ghastly for blogging.

Anyway, that’s my excuse for not writing.

Am morosely behind with my work now, but I swear tomorrow I’ll be in form to regale you with tales of our tennis outing. Ha. Assuming the computers work.

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2 thoughts on “A Lengthy Excuse

  1. AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH! Not being able to comment. It’s like some terrible nightmare, the kind where you try to run, but your legs won’t move. Agony. I’m so sorry.

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