My soon-to-be-replaced-for-many-reasons computer lost an important ability last week. A certain letter, existing between G and I, stopped working on my keyboard. I can still type said letter by copying and pasting, of course, and since I didn't foresee my current deficiency in naming my novel's personages, I often need to do so. But in informal correspondence, it's more fun to tell people to 'ave a 'appy b-- I mean, a 'appy anniversary of entrance into our world. Or I can say I'm going sopping, and immediately wonder if I've cursed (or blessed) us all to endure a rainstorm. (If yesterday's "sopping trip" is any indication, you'll be relieved to know I lack sufficient power to control our climate.)
I've also found myself marveling at our language's varied offerings. I can begin emails "Dear" instead of using less formal greetings requiring Letter #8 (and if you've received an overly formal-looking missive from me, now you understand). Words almost always possess synonyms, and one can even manage to avoid an article one generally uses in almost every sentence.
I suddenly crave a game of Taboo.
And a new computer.
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