My Fingers Are Faster

My writing has a new road. (Monte Dutton)
My writing has a new road. (Monte Dutton)

This sharp little number has speeded me up. It’s a transformer, capable of serving both my laptop and tablet needs. I don’t fully understand my tablet needs. I’ve had a laptop. I’ve had an iPhone. Now I’ve got the capability of existing in between. Middle Earth, maybe.

What could be finer than to be in Carolina … with a new toy? Well, there may be a few things, but in the interest of decorum, they will not be discussed here. Not today, anyway.

Earlier this week, my soul finally got as tired as my right index finger of having to hammer it like John Henry to get a “U” on my ancient laptop. (Antiquity is now measured in years, not epochs, millennia, eras, or even decades.)

“Give me a U!”

“I said give me a U!”

“Hey, it’s not that easy.”

That was Tuesday. Before I went to Best Buy and used the credit card I’d spent nigh on two years paying off. That’s why one pays it off, right? For the freedom to buy something else. And pay it off in the thoroughly modern, technological, virtual layaway department, which has virtual blue-haired ladies wrapping gifts somewhere in Middle Earth.

It was dragging me down, that old laptop. “U” was getting impossible, and “Q” right next to it. “C” was tough … and more commonly used. “E” was starting to turn against me. It was aggravating.

“Spell ‘quiet.”


“Type ‘quiet.’”


“That’s not right.”

“Sure it is. I’ll print it out for you.”

I wrote a chapter in my manuscript yesterday. I wrote another today. The first draft is now forty (chapters, not years). Before I brought this little transformer home – I think it may have a “bay” for a later “drone” (iCarrierpigeon) attachment – I had been slaving away at the thirty-eighth chapter for over a week. My finger hurt, but it was my soul that was broken. If typing suddenly gets harder than playing guitar, then one tends to play guitar more.

And read. Don’t even go there. I was getting so damned literate, people here were starting to make disparaging remarks.

“Don’t get above your raising. Stay down to earth with me.”

I bet you didn’t know I’d bumped into Ricky Skaggs.

Anyway, I’m even getting the old laptop, the one I know to operate, back. Fixing it was part of the deal. They’ll even service a third laptop I don’t even have yet. There might be a twenty-year-old Mac in a closet somewhere. I should take that in, just for the expressions on the faces of the freaks and geeks.

Wait. That was a TV show.

Geek Squad.


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