Monday, May 11, 2015

Chats du jour: Finding the 4



It did not occur to me to take a photo until I had already replaced half the missing keys. This is a photo of what a keyboard almost looks like after Shirley has sat on it.

I sent a photo to SH, who is out of town. We agreed that we thought this behavior had stopped years ago. I don't know why, after four years of not sitting on the keyboard, that Shirley suddenly thought, "Oh look! A keyboard! I like sitting on keyboards!"

But I should have known. I turned around one day to find her sitting on my work computer. None of the keys came off because they are solid, not snapon, but she managed to press some combination of numerals and letters that made any keystroke not register in an email or web address but instead open a new page.

I was working. I needed to work. I did not need to open more pages.

Fortunately, SH was at home and not taking care of his failing-to-plan for old age and poor health parents, so he was able to identify and resolve the problem.

My advice, in addition to marrying a rich orphan, is to marry an engineer. They can fix things. It is a good thing indeed to have a husband who can repair leaky pipes and flat tires and replace faucets and thermostats and auto parts. Paying for that sort of work can become quite expensive. Marry someone who can fix things (and of course, learn how to fix things yourself - I can replace a broken window pane and replace the set screw in an attic fan and repair a running toilet, etc.)

I should have known that Shirley was losing her keyboard sobriety and been more careful, but I was not.

SH was gone and I returned home from work to find my keyboard halfway destroyed.

I reassembled it only to discover that there was no '4' key.

Where on earthy was the '4?'

SH called me. "Did you find the '4?'" he asked.

Nope, I answered.

But I did have a solution so not a problem! A few years ago, a cup of coffee was spilled onto my keyboard. Guess what? Coffee is not good for keyboards. Even when you place the keyboard upside down over the sink before you dash out of the house to catch the bus for work, it's not enough. Eleven hours of draining into the sink is not enough.

Fortunately, we had a spare keyboard so I just switched them out and that was that. I thought about throwing the old keyboard,  but then thought, It might be good for parts.

And here I was, two years later, needing parts. I found the damaged keyboard right where I had left it in the attic, pried off the '4' key, and popped it onto the current keyboard.

There. Problem solved.

SH was not mollified. "What if Shirley ate it? What if Laverne ate it?" He was panicked.

I was sanguine.

"You need to search for it! You need to find it!"

"It will turn up," I said. "Or not. But I am pretty sure that Shirley, who chews each piece of kibble 70 times, did not eat it. I am pretty sure that Laverne, for whom I have to cut cherry tomatoes up into tiny little pieces, did not eat it. I am not concerned and I am not going to excavate under the stove and the fridge."

It has been two weeks. Neither cat is dead. I rest my case.



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