Keyboards, apathy and boyo speaks to ducky

I drink a lot of bottled water, especially at work. Tuesday, the bottle I brought with me was solidly frozen, because the back of our fridge is an arctic wasteland in which dairy fears to tread. I opened it when I got to work, and the thing completely exploded. I was soaking wet, and part of it landed on my beautiful natural keyboard. I mopped it up as best as I could, but an hour later, the keys on the right side of the keyboard stopped working correctly. If I typed "l", it would actually print ".l". An "m" or an "n" would print "mn". The enter key would insert a blank line below the one you were working with.. but it wouldn't actually do a carriage return--that sort of thing. I typed an email to M like that just to complain, but midway through, it started working, and all was well with the world.

Well, except that an hour after that, the left side began acting up. The 3, e, d and c keys no longer function. I plugged in the company-issued keyboard, and have been trudging along in despair since. (I tested it again the next day, hoping that after it dried completely it would work, but no dice.) M bought and mailed me that keyboard nearly eight years ago, when he was still in Sweden and therefore had to expend a little extra energy to find an American-layout keyboard. Two years ago, he got tired of me complaining about the terrible crappy keyboard at work (HOW DO YOU PEOPLE TYPE LIKE THAT?) and ordered me a new one for home so I could take one to work. I have been much, much happier since then. And now it is broken, due to a mishap with liquid refreshment.

I am actually a little sad about losing that keyboard, since I've had it for so long. It's seen six different computers in its day, and the keys were yellowed and there were shiny spots where my wrists have rubbed nearly every day for the last seven years, but it was my FRIEND and now it is GONE and it is all because of a bottle of exploding water. On the bright side, I believe that the replacement keyboard shall be supplied by my employer, so at least I don't have to buy another one... though if it falls through, I will buy one myself anyway, because hello, didn't us programmers INVENT carpal tunnel?

I am also a little hormonal, so please disregard the previous three paragraphs, which lamented the loss of an inexpensive piece of computer hardware.

I'm in a semi-sour mood this evening, but I don't feel like going into the whys. I'm so stupid happy with most of my life right now that I feel like a whiny brat for finding something to complain about anyway. I mean, I have the boy, and the Ducky, and the house and my family and friends and it's CHRISTMAS to boot! I shouldn't let this stuff bother me. Sometimes, I am very different from my family... I'll just leave it at that.

And, if not for Ducky and impending maternity leave.. I would so totally take tomorrow off. I am just not in the mood for another day of work. But, Ducky is a pretty efficient deterrent to wasting my time off, I've found.

Okay, cute story to round off this post. So I'm leaned back in my chair tonight, staring at semi-disbelief at my very pregnant belly. I'm wearing sweat pants, and my butt is nearly hanging off the edge of the chair so my head can rest on the back (my chiropractor would completely freak out) and the combination of those two things makes my round belly very noticeable. Ducky has been moving around, but it's still fairly faint, and you can't feel it from the outside yet... but that doesn't stop me from trying. M, being M, has been doing the cute expectant-daddy thing now and then.. patting on my belly, rubbing on it and occasionally talking to it. He leans over and begin talking directly into my belly in the hopes that Ducky would wake up and start moving around again.

"Hello, Ducky," he says, and then inspiration strikes as he begins breathing deeply through his imaginary respirator, and his voice deepens, becoming strangely reminiscent of James Earl Jones. "I am your father."

Ducky is doomed to a life with dorky parents, I'm afraid.