The trouble with mice…
You may remember that I’ve had trouble with mice before. Pesky little creatures, seemingly with only one desire – to frustrate the life out of me.
Yes, all right, I admit it. I’m to blame for their stubborn refusal to obey, but dropping them several times onto the tiled floor of the conservatory is no reason for them to turn up their toes at the earliest opportunity.
It’s true the latest one lasted several months, but any appreciation of that fact swings out of the window when pointing and clicking and scrolling produce nothing but a feathery excuse for movement. When you can’t get the mouse to move the cursor, there’s nothing for it but to curse.
Since my latest mouse reached that stage today, and all the previous mice – resurrected from various drawers in the study – stood in obstinate solidarity with it, refusing outright to work, there was no choice.
Ed and I hopped into the car, drove to the mouse generating shop and purchased a new one.
So far it’s working perfectly. But I haven’t yet ventured into the conservatory…