On Tuesday I managed to more or less obliterate my space bar. There is no button. Not any more. Not even the squishy bits that sit under the plastic key are left. Typing is painfully slow. I have to put a large amount of force and concentration into pushing the correct part to get a space
otherwisemytypingjustlookslikethis. My patience wears very thin very quickly. One of these days I’m going to have a heart attack, I just know it. I suppose I only have myself to blame nothing new there. You’d have thought I’d have learnt from the last incident not to mess with my keyboard but one word negates all that hard-earned wisdom.
Or more accurately, FUR. If I had any advice to give it’s to never let a shedding dog within two miles of a computer. Both of our lovable idiots shed like there’s no tomorrow and both love hugs. And playing, especially when they’re being ignored in favour of technology. And sitting on or leaning on anything that will sit still for longer than two minutes.
In all fairness, the same stands for cats too. I know my baby enjoys sitting on my arms, between my stomach and my laptop on my knee.
My name is sucker and I am powerless against cute.