My mouse is dying. I wriggle the wire and it revives only to die again when I least expect it.
We bought my husband a new one yesterday—the outing was to find me one but his had a different plug (mine is a USB) and so we bought his at Target, drove back to Kmart where mine would be cheaper and found out there weren’t any. By this time, dinner called and I wanted to go home.
So I had to resort to using that annoying pad under my thumbs. The one that makes my letters jump all over the page. The one that I didn’t realize had a shut off when I bought this laptop and had to go back to the store and complain that I needed another key board for it to work. Imagine my surprise when the young know-it-all techie showed me the off switch.
If I don’t have the right tools, I don’t want to do the job.
One of the tools I need to write with is a head filled with great ideas. Today all my head is saying is, “Find a cookie and eat it.” Earlier, it said, “Work out since you haven’t in over a month,” but I politely ignored that one.
So my brain will try to revive itself for the rest of the day.
I wish I had one of those off switches.