Always takes a month or two to get the hang of a new keyboard. The first week or so is spent wondering why keyboards fall so quickly when under my care, and why the new one is so bad at spelling. I'll describe it as a shyness, because the old keyboard is off to the side sulking, and each time I look at it I feel guilty of something, and I know the old keyboard is sneering at the new keyboard, because it too remembers what it was like to be the new keyboard. Then as I look around I am very aware that in the room where I sleep I have four keyboards all of them bereft of the letters I,O,H,L,B,N,M and pretty much all of the punctuation marks except colons and semi-colons. But they do make for wonderful hatching zones for the tiny young of Wolf Spiders, which I guess is why Lady Bird might be so attracted to them.
It is possible of course there is something I do, or some fluid excreted from my
fingers, or a kind of allergic reaction on the part of keyboards to my finger
nails, which do sometimes need cleaning, and possibly I should wash the grit off
my hands after travail in the great outdoors. It is also possible that
somewhere in the missing letters the great beyond is attempting to send me a
coded message. Some kind of anagram. And I would pursue this last possibility if
it were not for the fact that anagrams, like charades, puns, baroque madrigals,
limericks and the music of Sting are up there with the expression 'just saying'
on my list of dislikes. The new keyboard, it might be worth noting, has no
tether or cord of any kind, and it has an instruction booklet that must
have been written for Martians, and if ever you find yourself in this
predicament your best bet is to calm down, try to accept that the universe will
never be still and instruction booklets, both ancient and modern, are not
actually meant to be understood.