I was living alone in a small apartment. A couple fellows (probably in their early 30s) brought over a computer word processor which they wanted to sell me. It was brown and stood about 30 centimeters high and a little less wide. They began demonstrating it to me. I thought it was a Radio Shack computer. They hadn't had it long. I played with it a while and got some things to come on the screen. Some arrows came on, but I pointed out they didn't look quite right. One fellow made some adjustments and showed me how to operate it.
I asked the second fellow how the other fellow had known to make the adjustments and he told me he had been taught that.
I thought if I bought the computer, the two fellows would be living with me and the three of us could work together on the computer and learn from each other.
So I bought the computer. I sat down in front of it and began using it, but I still wasn't sure what brand it was. I noticed a name on it, but I thought it might be the name of some small electrical company rather than Radio Shack. It had some kind of frame on it made from a brown colored metal. It obviously wasn't an expensive computer.
I went to bed, and when I awoke, I found Weinstein lying in the bed beside me. I stood up and made the bed, even while Weinstein was still in the bed. I wanted it to look neat when he awoke, but he rolled over in the bed and messed it up.
I was presently living in a foreign country, where I was teaching English. I thought about how glad I was to be doing that. I was learning a lot about English grammar and I liked studying grammar. I knew Weinstein was doing basically the same thing, but I didn't know whether he was satisfied with what he was doing. I felt good about what I was doing. I had a skill I could always use and I could travel from country to country if I wanted.
I wanted to use the computer again, but I couldn't find the computer disks. I finally realized the disks for this computer were longer than the ones I had been accustomed to using in the Law Office in Waco. I had some doubts about having bought the computer. Perhaps I should have shopped around and tried to buy another brand, such as an IBM.
I looked and looked, but I still couldn't find the disks. I thought I might have to wake Weinstein and ask him, because I knew he had been using the computer and the disks the previous night.
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