Once upon a time, back when the earth was young, the sky was new, and people weren’t quite as concerned about pollution, I bought a computer.
Back in those olden times of yore, this was actually an event worthy of merit. Believe it or not, I had salespeople who tried to convince me that I did *not* want the latest and greatest: that shit was for businesses. Why on earth would any individual every need 4 MB of RAM or a 500 MB hard drive?
That’s a different story.
They *did* introduce me to this weird new device called a mouse. I still have my doubts about it. It sits around somewhere between my keyboard, my latte, my kitty cat, my barrel of wasabi peanuts, my guitar, my pencil collection, and my wife.
I hope you’ll understand that I do my best to keep my hands very, very far away from any of that except my wife. (If you don’t, you’ve never been married…I’ll have another series of essays soon about how to deal with this flaw in your personal character…it’ll sell for a low, low price).
Once upon a time, I bet I once spent 4 or maybe even 6 hours at a time playing minesweeper, trying to figure out how a mouse works. There was always the thrill of seeing a new batch of free territory open up to keep me trying.
I’m pretty sure that, back in those days, I’d never have guessed that I’d be sitting here one night cursing some programming framework for setting up everything so horribly wrong so that creating a freaking minesweeper clone has taken more than 12 hours of my time.