I really want a typewriter. A proper old manual one, with spindly keys and a noisy carriage and an ink ribbon.
I can get one for a reasonable price on eBay (although the postage cost is usually almost as much, if not more than, the actual typewriter). The ribbons too, can be sourced fairly easily and cheaply online.
But I am doing the sensible thing and exercising restraint, waiting until I go back to work and we are no longer on maternity leave rations. LOML is impressed with the sensibility of my decision, which feels good, but I still don’t like to wait. In fact, thinking about what I can afford when I go back to work makes me look forward to going back.
Humans are, I think, by nature pretty selfish creatures. And I don’t mean this in a negative, cynical way. I think it’s just a fact. Being married has been revealing for me because my self-centredness clashes with my desire to make someone else happy; to put their needs above mine. And having a child means that I can never be truly selfish again because there is another little person who needs my time and energy more than I do.
So really, I can wait for that typewriter because of my time not my money. I know myself, I am still too selfish to have a typewriter. I will think to myself, Little Man can play by himself for just a couple of minutes while I type this. Instead of being there with him, using my time and my energy on him, playing and cuddling and singing and being.
When I look back on my life, will I regret not hacking away at a noisy typewriter, or not squeezing in every moment I possibly could of my boy’s fleeting babyhood?
I still want a typewriter. But I am not ready for one. Not yet.