I opened the door, ready to leave. I had to return my friend's bass guitar; he had been laid off so I wouldn't be playing it in his youth group anymore. To my surprise, my exit was blocked. A weary-looking cardboard box sat on my doorstep. It seemed a little confused, as if it were thinking, "Is this where I am supposed to be?" Timid.
I brought it inside. I figured it was something for my dad. But no! Right on the box! "Mr. Braden H." I tried to rip the tape off, but my mom quickly stifled my enthusiasm, telling me that we had to leave. I had to endure a chicken salad and an allergic reaction before I would be home again two hours later.
The box was still waiting for me there. I opened it up gently, and was greeted by a yellow case. I tried to lift it out of the box, but it was heavy. Heavy. I could tell it was old. The solid wooden handle, the tweed pattern, and the old metal lock gave away its age. I pressed on the release tabs and opened this strange case. Inside, there sat an old typewriter. A Smith-Corona Sterling. 1935-1950. Flawless--absolutely flawless.
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So! Enough of that! Now to the non-selfish part of the post! Typewriters! So I just received one from my grandparents. Has anyone here done writing work with a typewriter? Do you feel it adds some sort of mysterious nostalgia to your work, or does it just make you hear ticky-tacky noises in your sleep?
I hear the lovely ding! noise already.
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