MOUSE STOPPED PLAY

There I was, legs tucked neatly under desk, upper body perfectly straight, eyes focused on the screen in front of me, mind working as one with my main character as she drove recklessly to the hospital where her beloved lay in a coma, when suddenly we were both horribly distracted - by a teeny weeny squeaking sound coming from somewhere close to our feet. Now, I'm not one to panic, but my main character is known to overreact sometimes. Up she leapt, (yes, I know she was in a car, but you've heard of suspended disbelief, haven't you? So - do it. If it helps, she had the sun roof open at the time, so she didn't bang her head, okay?) Anyway, as I was saying, up she leapt, only to fall back down a moment later (what did you expect? that she could defy gravity?). Daringly, she lifted both feet off the pedals and bent her knees upwards, peering down towards the dark floor (you have a problem with that? she steered the car with her knees - isn't it obvious?). She could see nothing. Perhaps she'd imagined it? Afterall she had been under a lot of pressure lately, what with being jilted at the altar, winning millions in Las Vegas and running for PM. She calmed her pounding heart, placed her feet back on the pedals and was only a little concerned to find she'd driven past the hospital and was now, in fact, on the back of a transporter that was heading for a low bridge. (Actually, I just made that last bit up.) The truth was that just when she'd convinced herself it was her overwrought imagination, the squeaking started again. This time she did what any normal woman would do, she screamed and ran out of the car. Realising this really wasn't helpful, she returned to the car which by now had parked itself in a handy hedge, and dared to actually cast her eyes around the floor again. Nothing. But our intrepid heroine was not put off, (oh no!), she bravely placed her ear against the computer monitor (doesn't everyone have a computer on the floor of their car?). Squeak, squeak, squeak it went. 'Ah ha!' exclaimed our heroine, and crashed her fingers down against the keyboard. Nothing, dead as a dead duck with bird flu. Bugger! What should she do? What could she do? She switched everything off and booted it back up of course. What happened? The mouse had gone and our heroine was able to return to dashing off to the hospital without any further hiccups. As for me - I merely mopped up the water I'd spilt on the desk when my heroine had surprised me by her sudden departure from the car, replaced the pile of books that had somehow got knocked to the floor, and repositioned the photo of my husband setting mousetraps in our garage.
Obsessed? Moi? Non.