CTRL

by Louise Yeiser

What can I do with a laptop, whose control key thinks it's depressed? Not the kind of depressed I can fix with a paxil or a zoloft, but the kind of depressed that requires a good computer technician and probably a new keyboard. When I tried to correct this problem myself, I ended up losing one of the tiny plastic pieces that fits into another tiny plastic piece, both of which are meant to be snapped together and into position, by itty, bitty metal hooks that are hidden beneath the black key that has CTRL printed on it in white letters, which is also missing at the moment, and which I probably should never have flipped off in the first place. Not the kind of flipping off that involves the middle finger, which probably would have worked out better, but the kind of flipping off that actually flicked the piece away, into the air, and then down, somewhere into the plush fibers of the carpet. Therefore, when I type an "n," my laptop opens a new page; and when I type an "f," the search box appears; and when I type an "a," all the text is selected; and when I type an "o," it asks me what file I wish to open. Instead of calling a computer tech, I have fled to a computer that I rent by the hour, in a pathetic attempt to escape these destructive control issues that could make anyone, even the most sane among us, want to flip off this computer and consume large quantities of anti-depressants.

6S

Louise Yeiser, whose full catalog is here, is a student of Creative Nonfiction at the University of Pittsburgh, and lives in Sewickley, PA with three mastiffs of whom she is the supreme ruler.