Tap, tap, tap my fingers pummel on the multi-touch gorilla glass of a tablet computer.
With near Obsessive Compulsive Disorder flair, I expertly close one screen to open another. I shift between playing games, where the sole purpose of games are to tap the screen, to opening social media feeds, where in a frenzy trance you read, share, retweet, like and comment on almost everything.
How can you not when viewing content in glorious high definition, with retina display?
Then the tapping starts again to type notes. In-between the screen’s side bezels are gripped in my hands as I position the camera to snap a photo, and then share it.
Of course you need to tap a bit more to find the right photo filter to make the bad picture a bit more respectable. I mean, I’m doing all of this so that the ‘sent from my iPad’ tag can show up for whoever accesses the picture.
I’m tapping my fingers raw in vanity. In this world you need to tap dance through life. We don’t need the outdoors, or to own a farm, or anything. All we need is the 9.7inch dance floor for our fingers to tap dance on.
Technology is great. My fingers have never been this fit before.
