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Working at home....
Aug. 12th, 2009 02:10 pmLet's see...
Teh intarwebs are slower than molasses in a cold snap today, so replying to email is taking half of forever.
I've just had a "first" and hope it never happens again: I lost my grip on my coffee mug and poured 6 oz of black coffee into my keyboard. I am so glad I drink it black because after I turned the keyboard upside down and left it to drain on a dishtowel for a bit, it seems to be fine, although the action isn't quite as crisp as it used to be and a couple keys are threatening to stick a bit. Perhaps when it is completely dry. I hypothesize that the coffee has caused damp little mats of dust and cat hair that will break up after the keyboard dries out.
The hive mind of LJ has delivered unto me the name of a SF novel I read almost 40 years ago and couldn't for the life of me remember: Macroscope, by Piers Anthony. I have no idea what happened to my copy so I've just ordered up another one. It's a keeper. While I wait for it, there are the poems of Sidney Lanier, especially The Marshes of Glynn, that figure so prominently in that book. I am normally a prosaic soul, shying away from poetry, but the meter and the sonorities of Lanier speak to me.
Yesterday![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
karenkay rode the only elephant in Michigan. Tonight Roy and I are riding The Ducks with a gaggle of Union Leaguers. Pictures will be posted.
Teh intarwebs are slower than molasses in a cold snap today, so replying to email is taking half of forever.
I've just had a "first" and hope it never happens again: I lost my grip on my coffee mug and poured 6 oz of black coffee into my keyboard. I am so glad I drink it black because after I turned the keyboard upside down and left it to drain on a dishtowel for a bit, it seems to be fine, although the action isn't quite as crisp as it used to be and a couple keys are threatening to stick a bit. Perhaps when it is completely dry. I hypothesize that the coffee has caused damp little mats of dust and cat hair that will break up after the keyboard dries out.
The hive mind of LJ has delivered unto me the name of a SF novel I read almost 40 years ago and couldn't for the life of me remember: Macroscope, by Piers Anthony. I have no idea what happened to my copy so I've just ordered up another one. It's a keeper. While I wait for it, there are the poems of Sidney Lanier, especially The Marshes of Glynn, that figure so prominently in that book. I am normally a prosaic soul, shying away from poetry, but the meter and the sonorities of Lanier speak to me.
Yesterday
karenkay rode the only elephant in Michigan. Tonight Roy and I are riding The Ducks with a gaggle of Union Leaguers. Pictures will be posted.
