Mouse Hand

I may be at the forefront of a new malady that could make me more famous than Thripshaw's Disease made Dr. Thripshaw in that old Monty Python sketch: Mouse Hand. Which is, of course, my malady, not the title of the Monty Python sketch. Good thing I'm a professional technical writer and can catch things like that before they've been up on the ol' blog here for, oh, say, two or three hours.

My job entails a lot of computer work. But because we have a text processor and are obliged to keep her busy, most of the work I do on the computer is mouse work, rather than keyboard work. That means at the end of each day my right hand is cupped in the shape of a mouse. At the end of each week it's almost debilitating. My mouse-clicking finger is especially sore. That's the finger, of course, that our youngest son loves to pull on all the time when Daddy has to play horsie or car or something like that. He just about pulled it out of the socket this afternoon.

This four-day weekend has been nice, since I haven't had to slouch at the computer all weekend. I've still done computer work, obviously, including a ton of homework for the classes I've been taking. But since the work there means a lot of typing, it's a lot easier on my fingers and hand, and actually gives it enough exercise it feels better after a while.

Other exercises I do to keep the ol' hand working:

1. Mowing the lawn.
2. Thumping on kids' skulls.
3. Holding a diet Coke.
4. Manipulating my "mini-mouse" for the laptop, whilst holding my pinkie to my lips and blackmailing the world for one million dollars.
   

So at work I've instigated a new regime -- I try to type at least 45 minutes a day, whether it's work-related stuff or not. As Cal Meacham says in "This Island Earth," I hope you taxpayers don't mind.