My apologies to anyone who got here by searching google images for autopsy.
I decided to vacuum my keyboard today.
My laptop and I are off to Canada this week to visit my daughter and
son-in-law and other important people in my life. My son-in-law is a
wonderful man, very laid back, very talented, a geek extraordinaire –
in the nicest possible way. He’s brilliant and has a quick tongue.
Always good when it’s matched with a quick brain. He has been known to
comment that it’s always easy to identify my laptop; it’s the one with
the keyboard full of ashes. (yes, I’m a smoker)
While I was vacuuming my office it occurred to me that I could
vacuum the keyboard. That’d surprise him. I am the least vacuuming
person I know, other than my daughter. I managed to escape using a
vacuum cleaner until I was well into my 50s. Vacuuming is just not
something that occurs to me very often.
Keyboard vacuumed, vacuum cleaner put away, feeling very smug, I sat
down to answer e-mail. And immediately noticed that there was a key
missing from the keyboard.
Obviously I don’t touch type because I didn’t know which key it
was. Well I knew which one it was, third key in, 4th row down, right
side. I didn’t know what that key represented. I panicked, as one
does in situation like this. What if I couldn’t find it? What if it
was a really important key, a letter I use all the time?
No choice. I would have to perform an autopsy on the vacuum cleaner
bag. That meant taking out the old bag, easy, and putting in a new
one, not easy. Dyslexia triumphs over technology! Finally I thought
‘screw it, I’m going away, I don’t need to vacuum.”
I took the full bag to the kitchen, put it in a plastic grocery bag
and proceeded. Very carefully I cut around the round intake section.
I then made diagonal cuts from the centre of the bag to the corners.
Originally I had planned to illustrate the process with images but decided that they were just too graphic.
I carefully spread back the triangles formed by the diagonal cuts
revealing the contents of the bag. Interesting. Steve had used the
house vacuum to clean up after he built the cupboard rather than using
the shop vac. (Yes, the no-vacuum woman has two vacuum cleaners).
Carefully sorting through the layers of sawdust, dust, and just plain
dirt, I found the lost key. Rather than exploiting the full
archaeological value of the bag I decided to respect it in death as I
had in life. I gently closed the flaps, ties the handles of the
grocery bag together, and threw the whole thing in the trash.