I miss my typewriter.
I got it as a present when I was 11 or 12, and it was just such a neat little machine. All it did was produce letters on paper when I hit the keys in the right places, and I then had to push a thin stainless steel bar to make a new line on the page.
Today I have enter and delete and undo. I also have Spider Solitaire, Free Cell, Facebook, YouTube, CBS.com, The Onion and several e-mail addresses. Oh, and there’s several blogs and then Bejeweled. Or I could watch a movie, or better yet, burn one.
It is almost too much to have a computer that can do everything. “Perhaps I should listen to some music?” I say to myself. Half an hour later, I’ve made a playlist that suited my mood 45 minutes ago but is no longer relevant, and all inspiration have flown out the window.
Wait! I was going to look up the ingredients for Uncle Ben’s Sweet and Sour Sauce! Oh, and I still haven’t caught up on last week’s episode of “CSI.” Then, of course, I need to make sure our competitor didn’t publish any good stories in today’s paper…
When I sit on my futon and read my book, I can hear the humming coming from the hard drive just a few feet away. “Wasn’t there something I was supposed to do?” I ask myself. I pick up the book again and continue reading. “Wow, I wish I could write like this,” I say a few minutes later. “I really should do more writing. Who knows, I might be good at it?”
But, of course, by then it’s almost 4 a.m. and time to go to bed. Another day, maybe. Too bad I got rid of that black little typewriter last time I was in Sweden. Perhaps tomorrow, I would be able to use it.