How is it possible that a middle aged woman, sitting clear on the other end of the house, can hear the sound of a mouse click?
The market had just opened, and there it was â a sure thing trade. Not only do I jump in, but I put on some serious size â two contracts. No sooner had I entered the order, when this crazed woman â the wife â bursts in my office flailing her arms, fire shooting from her nostrils, and screaming at the top of her lungs: âNO, NO, NO!â She starts to choke me, and by the time I wrestle her to the floor, the market moves against me, and Iâm down 28 points â x2.
Anyway, I tie her up, put duct tape over her mouth â sheâs been known to call the neighbor lady in to help keep me from trading - leave her down in the basement, next to the furnace, and go back to my computer. Only this time I donât take any chances. I locked my door, and slid the bookcase up against it. So what do I see? A Shamu is setting up. A big fat juicy Shamu, ripe for the taking! I start to go for my mouse â and with God as my witness â I hear the awful sound of glass shattering, I turn around just in time to see a wild woman â itâs the wife again â holding a carving fork! WHAMP! She sticks that thing in my hand, pinning it to the desk, just out of reach of the mouse. She starts in to this hysterical, sick kind of laughter, and say: âTry trading now, you turkey.â
Of course I missed the rest of this morningâs session while I was down at the Family Walk-in Medical Clinic getting my poor hand attended to â cost me $371.65, plus Lord only knows how much in lost profits.
Now my hand is so sore I donât know if Iâll be able to concentrate on the market this afternoon - itâs just one thing after another.