I live in a house with four men. Well, three at the moment - the fourth is away. Another found a wireless mouse that he didn't think he needed, and gave it to the boys. Jubilation all round.
For two days. Today, the mouse wasn't working. New batteries? Yes, but now the keyboard wasn't working. Reboot. Change of user. Keyboard still working, but mouse jumping. And it's an ESSAY CRISIS ... we need a new mouse-mat. Strangely, there isn't one in the house.
I work full-time, and I'm working on a book in my "spare" time. Still, an essay crisis is an essay crisis. I deal with them regularly, 9-5. Asda had mouse mats. HALLELUJA!
I still have a crisis of my own. Mine is worse - I have supplied the wrong picture of the wrong bard, to go with a journal article. In flowing robes rather than britches. I'm so embarrassed. And meanwhile, two whole lovely bookwriting hours have been dissipated. I've owned up, and now I'm waiting to see what can be done. Oh, I'm a clot!
Tea to hand, I shall get on with reading the article that must be read before I metaphorically sign off Chapter 3 and start the serious work required for Chapters 4 and 5. If the mice and the men will leave me alone long enough to get on with it!