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The Elves in My Keyboard: A Short Story
About a year or two ago, the keys in my keyboard were going out. First this key, then another wouldn’t work, no matter how many times or how hard I tapped it. So I wrote this in response.
I was reminded of it today because ants crawl in and out of my keys as I work.
Enjoy!
Half a dozen keys on my keyboard don’t work. Story to come later.
I hit send to email that tidbit to my editor, who will be none too happy. Life as a starving journalist presents its obstacles, like a deteriorating keyboard and no money for a new laptop. The control key (my shortcut to cut, copy, paste, save), most of the numbers, the hyphen (for which I mourn), and the plus/equals key (I’ve only needed it once since I’ve discovered the mishap).s When writing on a deadline with little time to edit, this could mean the death of my career. Random s’s and x’s and c’s show up on my manuscript, evidence of my attempts to save or cut or so on.
My editor emails back to setup an appointment with the IT guys. I’d love to, but there’s nothing they can do when the keyboard malfunctions because of the elves.
My beat focuses on the quirky human stories of our small town. Weeks upon weeks can go by without anything quirky or mildly interesting. Then, I’ll hit upon a week overflowing in a plethora of weirdness.
x
This week, my first lead was a woman who won the state lottery by choosing numbers according to a Magic Eight Ball. She’d go through each number for each slot and stop only when she got a “Definite” answer. It’s difficult to write about lottery numbers when the elves have taken out your numbers.
The second lead came from a callin. The man said his onehundredandfouryearold grandfather had premonitions about Pearl Harbor on December sixth and about Vietnam in nineteenhundredandfortysix. Too many dates. I don’t know why it took so long for this clincher of a story to show up in our town.s
My last story idea centered on numerology and how a math professor used number theory to create the perfect cup of coffee. Said professor gave me full permission to print the equation. No numbers. No plus or minus or equals key.
I thought about using the “InsertSymbol” function. Started a story or two with it. But I grew irritated with the tedium. Drat those elves.
When the elves first came, it began mildly enough. My screen would convulse like it was seizing, flashing black lines and miniature versions of what had been on my screen over and over again. I panicked, hitting every key available, finally holding down the power button until my computer obeyed. It would reboot and all would be fine.
But things got worse. The power button revolted, either taking the side of the elves, caving to their threat or, sadly, under their control. The only thing to do would be to unplug the computer and wait for the battery to wear down. I hated sapping its life like that, but it was for its own good, and it hurt me more than it hurt the computer.
Soon after, the blue screen of death would appear periodically.
And now this
Te elves look like ants, but I know tem for wat tey really are, evil messengers from my greagrandfaer wo prediced e downfall of civilizaion wen gore invened e inerne
I ink my greangrandfaer wans is naion o fall because e also said wed lose wwii, but maybe e was affected by e army denying is enlismen due o is missing rig arm
e elves disguised as ants walk off with my keys, one a ime, my apostrophe and period and now leerss ntil i ave noing lef bt a few of my kys
n vwls
I’ve lost all keys now, and am using the Insert Symbol function to say good bye and good luck.
Signing off,
Heather Goodman
Psst–If you find this post interesting and think others might as well, would you mind taking a minute to stumble it? It would mean a lot to me.

Case Study 56, Subject Number 9
Case Study: Crash and make unavailable to subjects their personal computer. Test reactions and alternate habits.
Subject Number 9: Reaction: Reacted calmly. No sign of panic or anger. Alternate habits: went to Pilates class, did food shopping, read, practiced piano, then subject did something not perceived as previous habit. Subject cleaned.
So there you have it. My computer crashed. Thankfully, Thursday morning, after reading Mary DeMuth’s writing blog, So You Want to Be Published, I realized, per her reminder, that I hadn’t backed up my writing file in a while. I promptly did. Which meant that when my computer crashed Thursday night, worst case scenario, I lost one day of writing (and a few random files), rather than months of writing. Hence the lack of panic and anger. Thank you, Mary.
I’m disappointed I didn’t get to participate in Robin’s Poetic License, to which I’d been looking forward. But c’est la vie.
My husband, being the genius he is, saved my hard drive and reinstalled all the software. We suspect that the culprit was software I attempted to install in order to convert wmv files to mov files so that I could post my podcasts to iTunes (if anyone has any suggestions for that, I’m all ears). So we spent the weekend reinstalling. This morning, I’ll copy all my files from the extra hard drive back to my computer and get back to life (back to reality).
Two interesting things: is it an accident that contemporaneous with the technology problem we’ve been watching Battlestar Galactica, in which cylons–artificial intelligence created by humans–take over the world?
Also, I remembered that, while I missed my cyber friends, I enjoy my non-cyber life. I even cleaned (start breathing again–it’s not that shocking). Although, I’m glad to be back. Maybe I should learn some balance in this.
So, again, if anyone has suggestions for converting video files, I’d love to hear it. I bought QuickTime Pro hoping that would take care of the problem, but QuickTime Pro is not compatible with my webcam.
Christmas Wish List
how I’d love to have one of these babies. You guys need to check this
out. Easy on the eyes. Hundreds of books without having to pack a dozen
because you never know what mood you’ll be in.
The Gods Must Be Crazy
Remember that diatribe I wrote last Friday? Well, the Napoleon Dynamite gods decided to exact their revenge.
After
a lovely weekend of camping, where the only chirping was that of birds
rather than phones, where blinking was at the awe and majesty of
creation and the Creator God, not computer screens. It was beautiful.
Then we came home.
And I needed my Internet.
But I had no Internet. Nor did we have TV.
Verizon equipment had gone kaput.
Did
I rejoice and embrace this as an extended vacation, as an opportunity
to write senza interruption? Oh, no. Figuring out the problem was a
faulty router, not the lines coming into the house, I rerouted and
rewired and risked electrocution (so that last one may be a bit of an
exaggeration) to continue streaming cable until a new router box could
be sent. I had to work in the living room, the room with the working
hard line of Internet.
We now have a new router. And after some
fighting, arguing, reasoning, and finally pleading, it began to work.
I’m back in my office, which I cleaned and fancied up with pictures,
getting my Internet wireless.
"Yes, I love technology."
It made
me consider: would I, could I give it up? To live a life of handwritten
first drafts and not being able to speak to my best friend a thousand
miles away and to spend my mornings gardening instead of blogging?
To be honest, I just don’t know.
I think I do love technology. As long as it’s not in my way.
My Evil
My husband, being the amazing man he is, stayed up with me. When something else would go wrong and my tears flowed and my voice raised and my body tensed, he would cradle me in his arms, kiss my temple, listen to me vent, and pray for me. He lifted the lid of the pot and turned the temperature down a notch when the spaghetti sauce began to leak over the sides. The pressure and heat and steam released, and the sauce settled. But still, my evilness simmered. It simmered, working its flavor through every limb and sinew of me like the Pharisees’ yeast.
The first two burnings of the DVDs gone kaput, we left the third one going while we crawled into bed. Chris held me and cuddled until I had settled down. This morning, he told me I am beautiful. All I see is the marring and burn marks from my evil. I went out to check the DVD. Something had burned! I held my breath and put the disc in the DVD player. Something had burned, but it wasn’t a correct burning. I was at my wits-end. No, I had lost them somewhere around 2:30 this morning. Chris and I returned to my computer to examine this new problem. I cried again. My evil, which had simmered and taken hold of the entire sauce, now boiled full over, now reached its zenith. I grabbed the nearest remote and hurled it across the room. I smote it, as would read in my translation of The Illiad, and it lay in three pieces. The spaghetti sauce covered the stove and the walls and the floor. It messied all the clean dishes and bowl of fruit.
Where is my Christian trust? Where is my patience and endurance and goodness? Lost over a computer? While others suffer hunger and imprisonment and beatings, it only takes a computer gone awry for me.
Side note: my husband calmly restored the remote, working his technological healing powers. He still loves me for reasons I cannot understand. Maybe its not for reasons as in qualities, but for reason as in commitment.
