Today, I forked over good money for a keyboard pad that looked blue in the store and now looks purple in my apartment. Outside of the fashion issues, the additional hardware isn't slowing my typing as I long suspected it might. It does feel a bit awkward... although it's probably worth it if I'm doing right by my body. At 28, I guess I'm approaching the point in my life where I realize that I'm supposed to keep joints, muscles and such working for another 40 or 50 years. Oh, how I mourn the passing my ignorant bliss.
The good news to all of this is that my trip to Staples reunited me with a long lost friend -- the reporter's notebook. Back in my newspaper days, I always had a notebook with me. Always. Seriously. The things I always carried with me were my wallet, checkbook, watch, notebook, pen and sometimes a pocket knife. See that -- sometimes a knife... always a notebook. I'm in the south, that says something.
When I left the business of reporting, I also left my reporter's notebooks. I've missed them. They are the perfect size for a back pocket. They are large enough to write full journal entries in a cramped airplane seat or on your thigh-as-a-desk in a moment of writing clarity. Unfortunatley, a lot of places in this neck of the woods don't sell them. Wal-Mart? Nope. Office Depot? Nope. So, just on a whim, I swung through the notebook aisle at Staples and found a stash. And just in the nick of time... I'm heading out on a short trip in about, oh, 10 minutes. What better way to break them in.