I didn’t even know what hardcopy was called. I met my future wife at a new psych hospital employment experience, and she had a little word processor, too. I think. Maybe it was still mine. Dunno.

Later, she buys me the Macintosh Performa. So I can write. We go to Circuit City together in the Valley, and she pays with a credit card. I have no credit because I ran up too much debt in college and went to collection and blah blah blah. ANyway, I get the computer. A whole new world opens up.

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