Dead Mouse and A Capital Rant

There, if that title didn't catch your eye, nothing will.

Yes, there is a dead mouse at That Old House,
and it belongs to our desktop computer.
So . . . all the pictures and things on the desktop
are unavailable until we replace the mouse.


I toddled off to Wal Mart today, and bagged another mouse.
It's wireless, as was our dear departed one, but I haven't worked up the nerve to install it myself.
Paging Dr. Howard, paging Dr. Howard . . . .

It looks easy enough.  Here it is, still in its demon plastic pack, posing next to my laptop:

 That tiny pamphlet in the front is a simple diagram and short instructions on installing and using.

The booklet to its left is a multi-page, multi-language treatise on why you should not

eat the transceiver or stuff it up your nostril or insert it into your cat where the sun don't shine.

All dangers are covered in minute detail, including a picture of what the transceiver looks like,

as that is pretty much a made-up word.

Clearly, Microsoft thinks its customers are complete knuckleheads.

In my case, Microsoft isn't far from wrong.

Since I am not facile with my laptop, and still have not installed the mouse, 

I turned to paper reading today, actually holding and reading a book I bought recently.

It's called Decorating With Blue and White, although the dust jacket copy forgoes capital letters,

perhaps thinking we'll be fooled into believing it was written by e.e. cummings.

  "Gee, Cass, might you just possibly have some pet peeves?"

"Yes, yes I do. People not using capital letters.  They're free, for crying out loud!"

"Well, golly, Cass, isn't that a little cranky and fuddy-duddyish on your part?"

"Yes, yes it is.  Tough noogies."

Anyway, the book has some lovely images.

I loved this one: 

 This is somebody's front hall.  I didn't fall in love with the modern flooring in this Victorian-era house, or

the cat at the door, or the stained glass door panel . . . no, what I flipped for was the stair runner.

A flat weave stripe.

I want it. 

Don't those shoes make you want to holler at somebody to put them away
before they cause an accident?  Do we ever stop thinking like mothers?

I think a flat weave runner would look fabulous and wonderful and lots of other adjectives meaning good

on the stairs in our own front hall.  Which are now covered in an off-the-roll machine made Persian look runner.

Stair runner, installed by previous owners.

Who's with me on this?

Good.   Christmas isn't all that far away.

  -- Cass