bookkeeping & a meditation on a keyboard

Yesterday, Kekropia, 355 words.

Slow but steady wins the race, as the sequoia said to the mayfly.

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My keyboard is a Kinesis. I've had it for eleven years, give or take (it's the older sibling of what they're now calling the Classic contoured keyboard, and looks pretty much like the pictures except a little battered and slightly grubby--the Classic after a hard day digging ditches).

I love this keyboard. As cavlec once said about hers, I will give up my Kinesis keyboard when you reconstitute it from my cremated ashes.

In the eleven years I have had it, it has:

• moved six times


• written
  
  • three years' worth of undergraduate assignments, including two honors theses
  
  
  • three years' worth of graduate assignments, including the endless recursive revisions of a term paper into a published article
  
  
  • a dissertation, may the powers be merciful
  
  
  • 29 completed short stories and 1 35,000 word novella
  
  
  • 5 completed novels, three partials, and enough false starts and missteps to fill the Albert Hall
  
  
  • an estimated metric hippopotamus of email
  
  
• websurfed, played games, and alll the other assorted ills that a keyboard's plastic flesh is heir to


• had cat fur, human hair, bits of paper, breadcrumbs, the sticky residue of peppermint candy, ants (!!!), and what I swear was a bit of bamboo, though how it got there I will never know, variously festooning, lodged in, and running amuck among its keys


• and been back to Kinesis once to be cleaned.

Poor Kyboar (as it has named itself). No wonder it has seizures.

But it's a powerhouse.