Saturday, September 21, 2019

OMG The Keyboard has Died

As empty nesters, the importance of replacing our children with animals can't be stressed enough. So when I lost my brother last year, we rescued his cat and he is now one of us. In the most complex of terms. His name is Darwin. We didn't award the moniker, my brother did. Not sure what he was thinking when he did it.

I'm sorry, is this your seat?
You're wondering of course what this has to do with a broken keyboard. What does anything have to do with a broken keyboard. Let me explain. Darwin, being Darwin, loves to sit on my husband's desk. He likes mine too, but I often have to ask him to leave. Now to access my husband's desk, he could of course, simply hop up. One little leap and he's all comfy. But no. That's not how he operates.

Darwin likes to hop up on my desk. From there he leaps over to the bookcase, the top of which is currently occupied by a large TV, unplugged. Out of order. He scoots by the TV and jumps down to the other desk. This is his favored route. I liken it to when we're going to a new destination in the car, and we're a little lost so the husband will not ask for directions, or consult gps, or ask his wife, sitting next to him. Nope. He goes whichever way he pleases, regardless of where we end up. Darwin is a daddy's boy.

The other day, Darwin, who knows that early morning is no time for his escapades, decided to leap up onto my desk, on his way to his destination. He encountered a cup of orange fizzy liquid, the stuff his human drinks every morning to ward off evil bugs. He chose that moment to try a new kickboxing move. Knocking over the cup allowing the pretty orange fluid to wash over the keyboard. Not drip drip drip. Rather a full streaming bathing soaking experience. Resulting in the death of my keyboard. Oh I tried to save it. I gave it keyboard CPR, wrapped it in towels and scrubbed it clean. What you don't see can't hurt you right? Well, in the pre-technology days, maybe.

At first, I thought I'd succeeded. I was able to use it. Everything normal. For about a minute. Then suddenly the letter R became #@$% and P was F$@ and I knew we had a problem. When your query letter to a literary agent begins with Dea#@$% F$@7ck? They might not respond. Of course often they typically don't respond anyway, but this might put me on some sort of blacklist. I'm sure they have one.

Well the good news is that the new keyboard arrived the next day. But in order to function, I have to pair it with the computer. Only I can't actually get into the computer without correctly typing a password. Desperate, I sent hubby on a treasure hunt in our storage unit for a keyboard from once upon a time. It had to be wired, not wireless, because there's no way to pair it until I get a password typed in. Had no idea if an old one would still work. If it would be compatible. But I suppose keyboards haven't changed much over the years. I didn't even know if he could find it.

Let's just say hubby is my hero and a master treasure hunter. He found it. And it works. It's a bit clunkier than I'm accustomed to, and the keys are a little slow, but they were able to correctly input the password. And I am able to write my blog. As Darwin watches from his perch on hubby's desk. Which he got to in his usual way. Only this time there was no cup to knock over. I'm a fast learner.

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