It was overcast all day and I kept toying with the idea of opening the windows, but was reluctant to do so because the temps tonight were supposed to be in the high 60s.

It was only 76°F at lunch time, so I took the opportunity to take Willow and myself for a walk. By the time we got home, I was glad I hadn't opened the windows, since it was indeed in the 70s, but extremely humid.

I'd been working fine all morning with my new wireless mouse, and when we got back from our walk, I had ten minutes left for lunch. I figured I'd sit down and play a game of mini-golf in Webkinz, when suddenly my mouse started doing weird things. The mouse pointer would just skate to the top of the screen. I'd shake the mouse and it would react normally for a second, then do it again. This went on for about five minutes. I rebooted. The mouse was okay for about five minutes, then started it again.

Well, I paid $5 for the mouse and you do get what you pay for. I called James and asked if he would stop at MicroCenter on the way home and get me a little more expensive mouse. But things were slow at work—we don't have a budget yet so we can't issue any purchase orders—so I figured I would save him the trouble and just run out to Office Max or Staples and see if they had a good one. Then I would just work that much later.

As I was getting dressed, a thought occurred to me.

I changed the batteries in the mouse and now it works fine. Heh. The box said the batteries should last three to eight months, depending on use. I killed them in five days.

Anyway, I spent late afternoon before supper working on my Thanksgiving page, adding vintage postcards that I got in a clipart book and some Thanksgiving poems; also a post I wrote in "Holiday Harbour" last year about "A Boy's Thanksgiving Day" ("Over the River and Through the Woods") and "We Gather Together," the two classic Thanksgiving songs.

Wasn't paying much attention to TV, but while I was reading my new Reminisce I started flipping channels.

Boy, I wish I knew about this two weeks ago: HDNet is running Torchwood uncut, no commercial interruptions at all. But I've missed the pilot and Gwen's first day at work.

I know commercials pay the bills but I am getting increasingly disenchanted with commercial television. It was okay when they broke an hour show four times, just a couple of minutes at the time. Back when I was a kid there were only four or five minutes commercials in an hour. Then it was eight minutes of commercials in an hour (about the time Wild Wild West was broadcast). Then ten minutes in a hour at the time of The Waltons. Now an hour show is about 40 minutes. Plus we have ads streaming across the bottom of the screen, popup previews, and credits squished so you can't make out who played that familiar-looking guy with another ad roaring over the theme music. It's so fripping horrible when a dramatic scene is coming to a climax and some boobish Gilbert Gottfried clone with a screechy voice or big-boobed bimbo pops up to promote some new dingbat comedy or reality show. I don't even watch Doctor Who or Torchwood (or Monk) live anymore, and I'm probably going to start doing it with House, too. I just can't bear the noise.

Labels: computers, exercise, television, weather

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 9:54:00 PM

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