The keys went out on little fog feet

I am typing this on my computer at work. Why, you might ask, am I typing this on a computer terminal that has no access to my journal? That is an excellent question.

I am typing this at work so I can attach it to an email and send it to myself at home. I’m sending it to myself at home because I cannot type it on my computer at home. Why, you might ask, can I not type this on my computer at home?

I can’t type this on my home computer because I spilled coffee on my wireless keyboard back in December. [At this point I hear a multitude of Tim Taylor style “Huuuuuuuh???”’s in the background..] Yes, I’ve typed several books of material on that keyboard since then. Well, OK, several very small books. But you are correct, Dear Reader. The caffeinated keyboard continued to click away contentedly for nearly half a year, with only the tiniest of resistance from the space bar. I had poured the coffee out of the keyboard, set it upright to dry, and hit it with my hairdryer almost immediately. When the keyboard appeared to suffer no permanent harm, I congratulated myself on my speedy reaction and resolved never to set any liquids down near my computer ever again. (That resolution lasted perhaps two weeks, but that’s another story unrelated to the current melodrama unfolding before us.)

What has happened since December and now, that my keyboard would decide to go into delayed-reaction death paroxysms? My guess (and it’s only a guess) is humidity. So long as the keyboard stayed utterly dry, no problems. As soon as some moisture appeared in the air, though, the residue from my unfortunate kava catastrophe became rehydrated sufficiently to start acting like rubber cement. Keys that originally sprang brightly under my fingers now act like I’m pushing them under quicksand. If I throw them a line, they may rise again from the depths, but the reprieve is only temporary; as soon as I depress those keys again they embed themselves once again in the depths of the keyboard casing.

I’m thinking about running my wireless keyboard through the dishwasher. Of a certainty, nothing worse could happen to it.

This entry was written four days ago. It seems dated. To try to post-script this into something more current, I pause to muse at this point if Dear Diary’s webmaster spilled his Starbucks into the mainframe.