A Tale of Two Mice

How Seeing What We Expect to See Can Blind Us to the Truth

Oh crap. Did I break it? I thought as my heart sank.

Ten days after I purchased this sleek yet unusually shaped ergonomic mouse, I inadvertently knocked it off the desk and it went crashing onto the tile floor. BAM! The two triple-A batteries slid across the floor.

Over the summer, I had injured my right hand from working on the computer too much. The joints, especially on my middle finger, ached. I finally could understand, I think, some of the pain my mom went through with her rheumatoid arthritis. I was in the middle of editing my audiobook and putting out content to build my fledgling business, so taking a break from working on computer was not an option. So I decided to buy this ergonomic mouse to see if that would bring me some relief. I used that along with a soft hand brace to minimize the movement, and I did get some relief. It was still painful, but I was able to get some work done.

And now it lay on the floor, batteries on opposite sides of the room.

I reached down to pick up the mouse, which was in one piece, and collected the batteries. I inserted them anxiously and placed the mouse on its pad. I exhaled as I started to maneuver the mouse in a circular motion, eyeing my computer monitor for signs of my cursor moving. There was nothing.

I turned the mouse over and flipped the switch to the off position, then back to the on position to see if that would reset it. There was no red laser flickering, but I attempted to raise my cursor with the dead mouse. Of course, I had no luck.

In less than two weeks, I’d killed a brand new mouse. I’d wasted money, money I didn’t have to spare. Patricia, how could you be so careless? I thought, irritated with myself for not paying more attention. They should make these things sturdier I fumed inwardly. I put it on a side table and mentally earmarking it for the recycle bin at the supermarket. Breathing deeply, I accepted the situation, even though I was not happy with it. There was nothing I could do to change it. So I moved on.

I resorted to using the computer on my laptop because using that was less painful than using the standard mouse that I had and which was still operational. It was not optimal, but it worked, and I got work done without spending money to replace my brand new and now broken ergonomic mouse. But a month and a half later, my laptop’s trackpad started getting super sensitive. Every time I tried to highlight a block of words, it would highlight the entire paragraph. And every time I tried to navigate somewhere, it would go where it pleased. It was like it had taken on a mind of its own. I was annoyed to no end.

Getting my work done slowed, and my frustration mounted as I fought with the trackpad. Finally, I resorted to using the old mouse. I needed to get stuff done, and I didn’t need the aggravation of an uncooperative device. However, I’d forgotten how much pain using it caused me until a few days after I started using it again. My hand pain returned. I had to do something else. I realized then that I’d have to invest in yet another ergonomic mouse, even though the idea felt extravagant and wasteful. A second new mouse in only three months?

But the day I brought my new mouse home I was so glad I had. I plugged in the USB device, turned on the mouse, and slid it around on the table. It was like driving a brand new car, smooth, easy to steer, precise. It felt good in my hand, and it was a relief to have it behave as I expected it to respond. Why had I waited so long to replace it? Why had I been so cheap?

I worked contentedly with my new mouse for about three weeks. Then one day, I did it again! I was editing my podcast and had my eyes on the computer monitor. As I planned to move my cursor, I reached for the mouse with my eyes fixated on the screen. I waved my hand at the height that would clear a standard mouse, but which was too low to pass over the higher profile of my new mouse. Once again, my mouse flew off the table and onto the tile floor below. CRASH!

Red dots of anger populated my field of vision. And I broke out into spontaneous prayer, Lord, please let it be okay. I darted to the ground and grabbed the mouse and the one battery that I could see. The other had rolled under the telephone table, and it took me a few seconds to spot it. I fumbled to put the batteries back into the mouse.

There was no red light. Damn it!

I turned the mouse on and off again and moved it around on the table — no signs of life. I fiddled with the batteries to make sure they were securely in place. Still not light.

“You gotta be kidding me!” I huffed aloud, annoyed with myself. I had broken yet another brand new mouse. This could mean only one thing: I was not meant to have a new mouse. Why else would this happen to me twice?

After taking a break from my work and getting myself together, I came to a place of acceptance and using the regular mouse, I started to work again once again. I settled for this for about a week until that mouse began acting like the trackpad had. It had become very sensitive, moving the cursor all over my screen in ways I hadn’t guided it. Crap.

It was then that I saw the second mouse, still on my desk off to the side, and I got the thought: Maybe I hadn’t reinserted the batteries back in correctly. My initial answer to this idea had been: No, not possible. But I felt a bit desperate, so I picked up the ergonomic mouse, opened the battery compartment, and removed both batteries. I looked at the + and — signs carefully, squinting to make them out and then inserted one cell and then the second correctly aligning the fields. I replaced the battery cover and flipped the mouse to the on position.

Immediately the red laser light started to flicker. I was in a state of disbelief. I turned the mouse over, placing it on the pad, and began moving it around. The cursor on my computer screen moved smoothly, in exact synchronicity with the mouse! How could I have put the batteries back in incorrectly? It’s such a simple task. How could I have made such a stupid mistake?

I accepted my stroke of luck and continued working. Then about twenty minutes later, a thought crossed my mind. Had I made the same mistake with the first ergonomic mouse? Could it be possible that I’d bought a second mouse unnecessarily?

Fortunately, I hadn’t taken that first mouse to be recycled so I could find out. After pulling it out of the drawer and opening the battery case, I removed the batteries and reinserted them according to the poles. I held my breath as I switched the mouse to the on position. Lo and behold, there was a flickering red light. I attempted to use the mouse, but the cursor didn’t register on the screen. Although the red laser flickered, the mouse was still not working. Determined to get this mouse working too, I left clicked and tried again. The cursor appeared on my screen. As I moved the mouse around on the desk, the cursor moved in synch with it. I had put the batteries back in incorrectly to that mouse too.

I felt so stupid, inept. And I tried to figure out how I’d done such a foolish thing. Maybe the irritation I’d felt at my clumsiness clouded my ability to think clearly enough to do this simple task? Perhaps this was a test of my awareness and ability to accept a bad situation? Maybe I needed this little brush with the unbelievable to help me see the wonders life can bring?

I don’t know. What I do believe is that we see what we expect to see. In the moments after I’d knocked my mouse to the floor both times, my first thought was I’d broken them and wasted money. And though I didn’t want that to be the case, that was what I anticipated. A broken mouse and lack were what I expected, and that was what I got.

Sometimes we see what we expect to see and don’t explore further or ask questions that would have us see the reality of the situation.

The good news in all of this is that I purchased a second computer recently because my old one was starting to crash regularly. For whatever reason, my old laptop is working better now. This means that that second ergonomic mouse won’t go to waste. Both computers are nicely outfitted with their own sleek, flawlessly functioning ergonomic mice — a perfect ending.