Posting in the dark

Posted on: 29/04/2011

This evening, trying to sell our house has had an interesting consequence on my posting.  Allow me to explain…

In order to make the rather small bedrooms look bearable, we removed the bunk bed from one of them.  This required putting middle child into smallest one’s room, and relegating smallest one to the study.  Which is where I am now. Typing on a black keyboard (why are they always black these days?) in the dark.

nuttakit /

Needless to say, spelling mistakes are frequent, though I hope to have caught them all before posting this.   Actually, I could easily be using my laptop in a different room, but loved one is away, leaving his nice large screen handily available, and the small breathing sounds drifting across from the corner are just too delightful to miss.

I do wish we had a blackout blind in this room, though.  Now the nights are shorter, smallest one has a tendency to wake earlier.  I heard you can get blackout coating you can paint on blinds, which sounds really weird, but I’m tempted to check it out all the same.  (I would have got a blackout blind for this room in the first place but for two reasons – one, they’re all boring and ugly, and two, I don’t want mould to start growing if we forget to raise the blind every so often, a problem that has occurred in other rooms in the past.)

So I’m posting in the dark.  It’s nice, once you’ve got your fingers on the right place on the keyboard.  Makes me realise that to be an accidental touch typist (I never actually learned) is still considerably handier than loved one’s fast two-finger typing, no doubt he would be struggling right now.

But then he’s the sort of person who would bother changing the light bulb in the discreet little desk lamp so he didn’t have to type in the dark.  It all evens out in the end, doesn’t it?

I was going to leave it at that, but with perfect timing one of my two cats, fed up with me not being downstairs slouching on the sofa with an empty lap, has made a point of sitting between the keyboard and the screen, silhouetted beautifully against my typing (which I can of course no longer see properly).   He patiently waits for me to finish, unaware that I’d be done by now if he hadn’t made himself into such a work of art.

Purring from the silhouette in front.  Tiny snores from the cot behind. And an awful lot of spelling mistakes.  That’s tonight’s post: ironic, yet fantastic.


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