The Mice Are Coming! The Mice Are Coming!

Here is another humor piece by the inimitable Gini Koch and this is published on her Leveling Up Day. Let us read a little bit of humor and wish Gini a Hippo Birdie!

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We have far more laptops than there are people in the Manse, and the hubs and I both travel, him for work, me for the work of writing. We all also hate using the trackpads on laptops, because they hurt our hands.

My personal computer setup is one computer in my upstairs office and two in my downstairs office. (That makes me sound soooo glam and efficient, and I wish I WAS actually glam and efficient, but we do persevere. But I digress…)

I say all that to share this:

I recently have had a variety of computer issues. The two downstairs office computers conspired to give me a series of “not really but feels real” heart attacks with their joint hard drive suicide pacts as well as their “lost all your info…psych! Not really!” pacts, and other fun things I’ve been enjoying. I’ve also had to replace external peripherals, too. All external peripherals.

The latest in that long line was my last remaining “old” peripheral, a not all that old computer USB hub. It died in a dramatic fashion wherein it was hard to tell what exactly had died, just that something had. And the first thing I thought had died was my computer mouse.

Now, obviously, I figured out it was the hub, but whilst trying to so figure, I realized that I had no backup mice in the Manse.

Why have backup mice, you ask? Why have backup toilet paper or shelf-stable foods? In Case. If you can’t go out – due to The Virus Troubles, snow and ice days, car trouble, or illness – what do you do if your mouse chooses to die on that day? Use the trackpad and reignite carpal tunnel issues? Or just grab a backup mouse out of the drawer? Clearly you can guess what side of this issue I fall on.

So, no backup mice in the house. Not a problem – Best Buy delivers. While ordering my brand-new hub, I also ordered backup mice and, because they were having a sale on cute ones, I ordered 4. And I have had no rest since then.

I foolishly signed up for text alerts from Best Buy. This mattered a lot when I had two laptops in with Geek Squad at the same time, was going back and forth for hard drive issues, was waiting for the new monitor (I was not joking – I have had to replace EVERY peripheral I ever had), was waiting for other vital peripherals, and so on. It’s not so vital waiting on a handful of mice that are there to be backups “for later.” But, as it turns out, Best Buy disagrees with that mindset.

Remember that I ordered 4 mice? Well, they’re not shipping as a unit. They are shipping in 3 separate packages. Why ask why. And for every…single…box…I’m getting text and email alerts. And clearly Best Buy thinks that the only thing I have in my life, nay, the only thing that MATTERS in my life, is these mice and when I can hold them in my hot little hands. Or maybe they think that a girl who has need of that many mice is lonely for human interaction. Or bot interaction. Going to bet on the side of them thinking I need more bot interaction.

The mouse/mice is on the shelves! No kidding, BB, I didn’t order out of stock items. The mouse/mice has been taken off the shelves! Don’t care, BB, don’t care. The mouse/mice is in a box! So is a fox, if I have my Dr. Suess right, and still, not all that interesting and hardly worthy of 3 separate texts and emails. The mouse/mice are with the shipping company/s! Yay and whatever. The mouse/mice are shipping! Booyah.

Booyah denied, however. Because the mice were set to ship out during a coming snowstorm where the governor pretty much told everyone to fill up their cars with gas, get milk and bread and whatever else, and then stay the heck at home. Do not drive, you idiots, was the basic message. And a wise message it is, too, for Georgia, a southern state not known for its winter preparedness.

I’m not insinuating that Georgia is a loser state because of this. I grew up in Southern California and lived for over twenty blissful years in Phoenix, Arizona, aka Hell’s Orientation Area. Neither place was set up for snow, because snow happens not very often. I’m used to how badly non-snow states handle snow, so I was way ahead of the governor in getting all the things taken care of and keeping my happy butt at home.

However…the mice were coming! Only, they were not.

So – you’ve guessed it – yet more multiple texts and emails. Sharing the mouse/mice’s imminent arrival, then immediate delay, then arrival, then delay, then we don’t know when, then arrival!

Real arrival. Of one mouse. The prettiest mouse, so that made me happy. So far, that’s all that’s made me happy with this whole sordid affair, so I’ll take it. Of course, that was followed by a series of “it’s arrived!” texts and emails.

Now, only two sets of texts and emails and texts and emails all through the day and night. Let’s not forget those late evening/we interrupt your viewing texts and, as I’m now thinking of them, my morning wakeup texts sharing where the other mice happen to be.

Mouse #2, second prettiest, arrived today, complete with extra “it’s arrived” texts and emails. No step along the way is shirked, I’ll say that. And the delivery happened while the hubs was on a work call, too, so that the Canine Death Squad could bark their heads off and he couldn’t yell at them because they were correct – barbarians were at the gate, armed with rodents. So, a successful interruption by the Minions of Best Buy was achieved again.

Supposedly I’m down to one text and email on repeat until the box that also supposedly contains the last two lesser looking mice arrives.

Hopefully they arrive sooner as opposed to later. Though, once they’re here, I do have to wonder how I’ll wake up in the mornings.

Then again, I’m sure my computers will find a way to need something else and get this whole cycle going again. They’re givers, that way, and, as this ordeal has shown, Best Buy always finds a way to deliver, too. Perhaps they’ll be sending me “rate your delivery” texts and emails for the foreseeable future.

Honestly, that sounds awfully plausible. Perhaps it’s time to tell them to stop the texts, I want to get off. But by now I know the bots won’t listen, because they know I need their connection to feel annoyed which, for the bots, means alive. Bot Booyah reinstated, I guess.