"Start the search."
"The search for...?
"A new computer."
I couldn't take the endless UNRESPONSIVE SCRIPT warnings and time lags - which is hilarious, because anyone in their 40s remembers what a true time lag is - the ones at the beginning of internet usage when it would take 23 minutes for a page to load.
First we went looking at Staples - in advance of Black Friday... An entire aisle of laptops. From the very cheap Google tablets... (I'm just making that name up - it's a computer that does everything by using the Cloud. The cloud creeps me out. I don't want the CLOUD) ... to the ridiculously expensive.
"What do you want?" David says
"Whatever's cheapest - whatever is faster than mine (everything is faster than mine - my last laptop was a refurbished Dell - 4 years ago), whatever is lighter than mine (everything is lighter than mine - see last parenthetical), whatever has a standard QWERTY keyboard ('cause with some of these new laptops, the keyboard, she shrinks just a titch).
We found a light, compact laptop and I started typing.
"No!" I moved to the next one.
"Split shift keys. I shift with my left pinkie. That keyboard," I point to the last one, "has a split shift key. My typing will be off." I go up and down the aisle, looking at the keyboards. "No.... no... no... no... no... NO."
"Just try them," David urges.
I type my full name. The first letters in my legal name now read "\" . "Nope... nope... nope annnnnd NOPE." Before David even opens his mouth, I stop him. "I am an old dog. And though you might be able to teach an actual old dog new tricks - old dogs don't have to type. I have been typing a certain way for the last 30 years. 30 YEARS. THIRTY. The level of practice it'll take for me to adapt to a split shift key? I don't have time for that!!"
So he researches and online comparison-shops. And the Lenovo that I am now typing on arrives.
"CRAP!" says David.
"It has a split shift key."
I look over - yep - there it is - the dreaded split-shift key. I typety-type for a few moments.
"No, I think we're good," I say. The keyboard, being a little shrinkified to make the laptop more compact - has designed the shift keys a little bit smaller. I won't have to adapt that much. That's not to say that the keyboard isn't just that slight bit off when I type certain things, I fuck them u[. UP. I f7ck things \up. No worries - it'll all be fine.
"Okay. Now you have to name it," he says.
"I get to choose a name?"
"Huzzah!" I LOVE choosing names. Naming things is my forte. Five minutes later I'm still sitting at my computer.
"Haven't got one yet?" David asks..
"No, not yet, but..." My fingers lift from the keyboard in anticipation... "Nnnnnnnnope."
"You know that you can change your mind?"
"I want to get this right." My first instinct was Margaret, but as I toss the name around in my head, it doesn't ever settle down.
"It starts with an 'm,' I say.
He raises his eyebrows. "With an 'm'?"
I stare at the screen.
I clear my head. I breathe deeply. Moments pass. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...."
"Are you meditating now?"
"Yes. I've got this." I begin to type. Eight letters.
M. A. R. Z. I. P. A. N.
"You've named your computer after almond paste?"
"No I have named my computer after a pig."
"You know a pig named marzipan?"
"No. But if I had a pig, I would name it Marzipan. As it stands now, when I see the computer's name I will think of a small pig, possibly made out of marzipan, who, coincidentally, is also named Marzipan."
David opens his mouth and then closes it.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing. I love you."