Superiority complex, thy name is Macintosh.

Spilled liquid on my old Mac keyboard (I have a disconcerting habit of doing that, it seems), so I had to run out and buy another one after two weeks of being without it.

They were selling regular keyboards and Bluetooth keyboards. Our little home office is about three feet square. Because of that, I thought a Bluetooth would be an incredibly cool waste of money. Is that the way it is for all Bluetooth things? Bluetooth owners, please enlighten me. Well, anyway, I opted for the $50 USB model.

"What?" you ask. "Fifty dollars for a keyboard? Is this woman insane?" I have two answers for you:

1. Yes.
2. Hot keys.

When I opened the package this evening, imagine my surprise when I discovered that the keyboard is less than 1/2" thick! The keys don't make that loud, yet satisfying CLACK CLACK CLACK of a regular keyboard. Instead, they have the officiously comforting click click click of a laptop. The non-key part looks like it's made of titanium. Ergonomically, the keyboard feels like it's much better than the other one - my wrists and hands are in excellent alignment. The intuitive design of Macintosh PWNS the Intarweb once again.

Well, that concludes another fascinating post. Tune in next week, when I'll talk about using color-safe bleach on my scrubs. Goodnight, everybody!

...

No, seriously, that's it. I'm sure you don't want to hear anything about the $189 I spent at Trader Joe's this afternoon (six bars of French-milled soap!) or the way I vacuumed the lampshades after three cups of coffee. There are other things going on in my life, but there is such humor in the mundane. The large spider crawling across the window agrees with me.

Thanks for reading. :)

Incense!

While Febrezing the mattress, I remembered that we have a thingee of incense we haven't burned in ages. I lit up a lemon incense stick, and I am now watching the smoke curl its way up to the kitchen cieling. The incense smells an awful lot like pot, which cracks me up. That's probably because it's the closest I'll ever come to trying it, and that makes me feel like a badass. I am also watching two pillows meander their way through a leisurely, regular wash. The washing machine sounds like it doesn't know what hit it. I may only throw one pillow in there the next time.

The epitome of my day-to-day adulthood: getting excited about what the laundry looks like in the washing machine. If my sixteen-year-old self could see me now, I'm pretty sure she would hide her face in embarrassment.

Sixteen-year-old self: "WHAT? You mean you don't wear Hard Candy nail polish and shop at Urban Outfitters and live in a Cambridge loft with your brooding, emaciated, angsty lover and your purebred Siamese cat?"
Twenty-eight-year-old self: "No, but the mattress smells really great."
SYOS: "UGH."
TEYOS: "That's up for debate. Do they still make Hard Candy nail polish? Oh, and I chopped all my hair off."
SYOS: *flounce*
TEYOS: "Wait! I need to tell you that you should try doing yoga and keeping better track of your bank balance! Oh, dammit."

Fin.