I love a good three-day weekend.
Mind you, I said three day. Not four, and certainly not five. But that’s precisely what I’ve had: a five day weekend. Five days with my little boy home from school (the first day due to a stomach ache that cleared up by noon, the other four due to a school holiday). Five days. Five long days. Just when I was getting used to having my life back now that he’s school-age at last.
Those five days wouldn’t have been all that hard, I suppose, but for my inability to go online to check email, browse news sites and my favorite blogs, and do a little blogging myself. But noooo. No internet connection for me!
Considering how frantic I was the first day of this unexpected 5-day weekend, I thought I exhibited a great deal of patience when I told our cable company that they had a full 24-hours to get someone out to my house to solve the connectivity problem. When 24 hours came and went — with no sign of the cable dude — I was livid. I’m rather confident that I taught the cable company’s customer service rep (and her manager, and his manager) some new expletives. I even provided them with detailed instructions on the performance of some anatomically challenging positions which would allow them to perform their own visual colonoscopy. They assured me that someone would, indeed, be out the following day if I would please just leave them alone.
Another day came and went. Cable dude arrived at nearly 7 o’clock in the evening. Apparently, he’d taken part of the afternoon off so he could attend a BBQ. One that involved, from the smell of it, quite a bit of beer. I wasn’t in the least bit surprised when he declared, while scratching his stomach, that he couldn’t find anything wrong with our system. I taught him a few new words, too, I think.
Yesterday, I decided to take matters into my own hands and ordered my husband to fix the problem or I wouldn’t make him lasagne for dinner. (Yeah, I play dirty.) He took our whole system apart, tested each computer to make sure it worked, then hooked each directly to the cable modem. Voila, connectivity!
Turns out, our 2-year-0ld router had died. It was a quiet death, I believe. Probably happened in its sleep. We buried it in the Graveyard for Non-Working Electronic Components That May One Day Be Salvaged For Parts and, after a suitable mourning period of two minutes, Hubby went off to buy a replacement. After getting home with the new router, it took him all of 3 minutes to have us back online once again.
I suppose I should apologize to the cable company, but I can’t bring myself to do it. After all, I not only provided them with some useful instructions on reversing a rectal-cranial inversion, but gave an impromptu demonstration as well!