Quiet Aunt Zelda

The typing lessons at my elementary school gave me an undying hatred for the home row keys.

Our computers were ancient macintosh things. Two of the lab computers couldn't do colors other than varying shades of green and they all used those wonderful ancient floppy diskettes. It was fairly random whether we'd get stuck using the program where you sat there typing in random words for an hour or something fun like Oregon Trail and that ocean game where you tried to eat as much plankton as possible without dying a terrible fishy death. While doing the typing "games" one of the computer teachers, a skeletal woman named Patsy, would get very angry if you ever took your fingers off the home row. So of course I did it as often as possible, because it provided a small source of amusement, and also because my hands weren't large enough at that age to reach some of the letters without painfully stretching my fingers.

Since I grew up thinking of the home row keys as painful to use, slower, and generally pointless I've never bothered to stop typing with just two fingers. Trying it now feels cramped and awkward, so I doubt I'll ever bother to change. Memorizing key locations from messing around on the computer a lot has worked just as well for me.

Jam it back in, in the dark.