I Came, I Conquered, I Type

Dead MouseI’m sitting here at the cottage, after finally figuring out how to disable the touch pad on my lap top notepad. It is neither a laptop, nor a notepad, however a name is a name. The keyboard is the typical QWERTY keyboard, but the problem was not with the keyboard, as such, but rather with the keyboard user, namely me. You see, because I never learned how to type properly, I am unable to type without looking at the keys. Now some may say this is a great handicap, but I say no. No it is not, because I type with nearly all my fingers, and rarely make mistakes, on any other keyboard that is, except this one. The problem was with the damn touch pad and it’s close vicinity with the keys, namely bottom and center. Every once in a while I would look up to the screen and see gibberish. After very close scrutiny I discovered the problem. It seemed that at times I would come in contact with the touch pad, and doing exactly what it was designed to do, the pad reacted with my every touch, sending the cursed cursor every which way, nilly-nelly everywhere it was commanded, which was most often right smack dab into the preceding paragraph(s). So I decided to not write while I was here at the cottage, but…I could not, not write. So I was determined to master this little tiny keyboard with my big and clumsy plumber hands. I was determined to win. Man’s triumph over machine. 

So I tried to type with my arms slightly hovering over the keys, well away from the tyrannical touch pad of total topsy turveyness. Yeah, that lasted about forty minutes, and in the end took me nearly eight hours and half a tube of Absorbing Junior to cure. I still think there is a muscle under my shoulder blade that belongs much lower on my back. Next I tried keeping the heels of my hands firmly planted on each side of the you know what. This solution would have worked too, if I had actually learned how to type properly in the first place. So I tried covering the entire surface of the touch pad with an envelope, and that lasted about fifteen times sliding off and onto the floor, and six or seven times stuck to my now severely sweating hands. Finally, in desperation I turned to internet friends. How can I solve this issue I have with this touch pad, I cried to the unseen hoards…well actually…I asked a couple of people in private messages, and the answer was clear. Why don’t you disable the touch pad? It was an epiphany. It was so simple in it’s non-complexity. Disable the offending tool, like cutting off the power supply to the rotten piece of technology? I immediately turned the notepad over. I would just snip a power wire to the darn pad and be done with it. Did you know there are all kinds of warnings about opening up a computer and messing with the insides, especially if you are a plumber and not a computer tech savvy type person? Well there are, so I patiently waited for my internet friend to get back on the computer at whatever part of the planet they were currently inhabiting to answer my what if question. Ha! Turns out the switch for turning off the little bugger was inside my computer. Yup, it was there the whole time. In some deep dark place I had never ventured, and never will again. A place called control panel. Oh my God! The name struck the fear of Jebus into the very heart and soul of my being.

So I tentatively opened the door to control panel and there it was, just as my internet friend said it would be. A name tag with the words ‘pointing device’ written thereon. It was like finding the Holy Grail! I glanced at my hand written notes, because hand written notes can’t disappear into cyberspace never to be seen again, and I clicked ‘pointing device’ and it was like magic. A window appeared, and what’s more, to my utter delight I found what I was looking for. The box. The box that said enable in it, and sure enough, there was a check mark next to it. I was so close now I could taste victory. I cried to the computer Gods. I am Man, and I will prevail! I unchecked the box with my new wireless mouse, which is also a pointing device, and I smiled the smile of the victor as I clicked on the button that said OK. But wait! What in all that is unholy was that! A big red screen that said WARNING. THIS WILL DISABLE THE POINTING DEVICE. Did I want to continue? Well Duh! 

And that is how I managed to write this little rant, this little treaty of my victory over that stupid little…without going stark raving mad. 

 

WARNING: If you are going to disable the touch pad, you MUST make sure you have a working mouse to enable the touch pad again, if you so desire.

The Medicine Bottle

medicine bottleIf laughter is the best medicine, then a smile must be the medicine bottle. When I was in the hospital a few months ago, I was feeling fairly good one day and I decided to test drive the new to me wheelchair that was delivered to my hospital ward by the Occupational Therapy Department.A friend I had previously met, and a former roommate of mine was in a different wing of the hospital, and knowing I desperately needed the exercise, I headed in that direction.
As I rounded a corner and wheeled through the sealed door into the geriatric ward where my friend was, I saw an elderly woman, head down mumbling to herself, and walking fairly fast for her seasoned age. When we passed each other I saw that she had the most dour expression on her face, and it was clear she was wrestling with dementia, as was the case with some of the patients in this section. I smiled and bid her a good morning.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded with a scowl.
By now we had both stopped, and I smiled and replied, “Oh, I just wanted to wish you a good morning.” The cloudy expression seemed to lift from her face, and she smiled in return and asked, “Do I know you?”
I told her that I didn’t know her and she smiled again, turned and continued on her way. I watched as she walked away from me, head up, and not mumbling, and I thought how different she looked now. Did I cause a difference in her immediate health? It sure looked that way to me. I’m certainly not asserting that I cured this woman’s dementia with a smile, but I’d like to think that, because of that simple act of kindness, in her otherwise cloudy day, I had lifted her spirit enough to smile back, and that was the moment the medicine bottle opened.