Today I cleaned my mouse. You know, as you do.
I held it under the bathroom faucet and scrubbed it thoroughly. Dirty little mouse! I subsequently applied the hairdryer to it - lovingly, like you would with a proper furry mouse, and - having put it to every possible purpose except the one for which it was intended - proceeded to pluck it back into my PC.
The next thing I knew, my mouse was dead! The effect had been such that it all but lost the will to function.
So, in the failing light of the late afternoon, I drove all the way past Oakwood to the nearest PC-World, and acquired a new one. This one has a red light under its belly, and it is called “Optical Mouse.“ Everything about it is perfect. And so obedient. It even has a little wheel, topside unfortunately. Though I would lay a considerable wager that it has a secret purpose. And just so I won't look a fool when next dining with Bill Gates, I proceeded to study the Microsoft Product Guide about getting the mouse started - though, quite frankly, I found it a good deal harder even than the insufferable wretchedness of reading Joyce’s Ulysses.
Product guides are the work of the devil!
The man in PC World was extremely charming. He strongly advised me never to bathe my mouse. But never once was he judgemental of my idiosyncratic behaviour. If he was, he pretended not to. Nor was he in any way insinuating that nothing was worth the grief of having to deal with the likes of me. Though he did mention that females were very special creatures.
“I see,“ I said. Not seeing at all!
The customer next to me put his glasses on. I think he liked my cleavage. I have no problem with that.
Poor dead mouse!
I should get over this. But I can't help but think that luck has many faces - and some of them ugly.
Dreamy
