In college I'd be typing on my old manual Smith Corona, and my roommate said once "Where's the power cord?" "It doesn't have one." She brought in people to watch how fast I typed.
Anya ,'Showtime'
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Oh yeah... typing too fast and the keys tangling together and having to pry them carefully apart... the carriage return and the ding! So very satisfying. Even if carbon paper was horrible to use.
Carbon paper was a miraculous step up from mimeograph, for me.
Mimeograph fluid, mmmm . . .
Zenkitty, I'm normally ok! But when they said that clocking in one minute late twice over the year is the same as one unexcused sick day in their book, even I was surprised. And I'm HR!
Lilty, that's insane. Most places I have worked had a 5 minute grace period.
I did errands with thessaly today, and now I'm beyond exhausted. TCG has a meeting tonight so I'm on my own for a while, and I should probably eat at some point. Luckily, there is leftover cheesy polenta in the fridge.
I used to have a manual typewriter, had a carrying case and everything but I finally go rid of it during one of my (many) moves.
Recently I switched from a regular keyboard to a mechanical gaming keyboard. Partly for trhe gaming aspect of it (and the super glowy red back lighting) but it's more comfortable and the keys are larger. It doesn't take a lot of pressure to press the keys but they make a very satisfying sound when when typing.
That's insane indeed, Lilty! Eesh.
(are the spouses of all police officers required to carry guns?)
Java, no not a requirement. And, I hasten to add, I never 'carried' except when we were camping. Though I was required...by my husband...to have the gun in my bed...not the nightstand because that would be too slow. Taylor was an upholsterer on the side, having learned to sew as a parachute rigger in Vietnam. He was quite good, so he built a holster into my waterbed so I would not shoot myself in the night.
He was all about saving me...which he did, and that is not an exaggeration. The gun wasn't so much about protecting me from the big, bad world as it was about making me feel powerful. I indulged that because it was important to him and I was grateful.
In re: Label makers, I'm actually amazed that my worship of organization, I've never gone that route.
Though...in 1989, when I worked for the software startup, I ordered so many label makers for our office that we were mentioned as distributors in the manufacturer's national ads. Heh. I was totally Johnny Applestamp.
We have a ghost in our house. She's nice, and looks after the kids, which so far means giving them little toys, mostly marbles. Her name is Antonia.