I don’t usually write on Sundays, too busy, or too lazy. Today I have a few minutes and no inspiration, so I figured why not? So here I sit at the keyboard blankness in my mind as wide as the sky. Which today is such a pale shade of blue with a bright sun. Like we moved just a little closer to the sun last night, because it wasn’t this bright yesterday. Ah, there’s the problem. Wrong glasses.
Now I’m ready to tackle writing. About what? Well, I could go on about twitching, which is happening more and more often when I type. Really messes with my accuracy. Thank god for spell check (I never thought I would say that. I have always trusted to my excellent skills not some computer program that can’t tell the difference between there, their, or they’re. Of course, neither can a good share of the population. Not judging, just saying I used to have great keyboarding skills. After 30 years as a secretary I should.). Now I depend on spell check, and misuse their and there.
Having MS has been a humbling experience. Not that I was conceited. I had a good position with a recognized law firm, was making nice money. We didn’t have a lot, but we always had enough. I was a good secretary for a difficult pair of lawyers. When they began to complain about errors and typos I dismissed it, thinking, it was a draft and didn’t matter. As long as the error is caught, no harm, no foul. Except the errors increased, and that blankness would overcome me in the middle of a discussion with a lawyer. I was losing my skills.
It horrified me to realize my skills at typing and proofing had gotten suddenly so poor. And devastated when I finally realized the time had already come to retire. Which hasn’t turned out as badly as I’d feared.
This blog serves to keep my skills from going completely to hell. The “white mind” continues to haunt me, but I hope it will diminish with a little self-serving blogging. I may even start journaling again. My handwriting, which would make a 90 year old doctor cringe, and my poor penmanship teacher is rolling in her grave. My handwriting is so bad, I often can’t make out later what I wrote. The trouble with my twitching fingers and aching thumbs does nothing to help the situation. Still people without hands find ways to paint with their feet, and people without speech can learn to talk, I can certainly overcome my monkey hands (monkeys have no thumbs, in case you didn’t know).