The five days I didn’t have internet access at home were painful and strangely wonderful – just not at the same time.
It all started one morning when I went to my desk, coffee in hand, as I always do, to start my day. A few clicks and nothing. No bars. No Safari. Nothing.
Hence, several frustrating hours with our DSL carrier: automated service -holding – a technician I couldn’t understand – holding again – testing the line over the phone – more holding – getting disconnected – only to start the whole hair pulling process over again, and so on. Several hours later it was discovered the root of our problem seemed to be a faulty modem, but not to worry, they would overnight it to us. Hallelujah.
Two days pass and no modem. Panic set in. How will I survive another day without internet? Email? Facebook? Pinterest? And, heaven forbid, Twitter? Thankfully, my cell phone had internet, but it was an old model BlackBerry and I nearly went blind from reading the tiny screen. (Just so you know, I’ve since updated to an iPhone.)
Desperate, I called my DSL carrier – AGAIN. The technician couldn’t have been more pleasant, apologizing robotically with the same line over and over again. “Please” I begged, “no need to apologize, just bring me back my internet. And hurry!”
So I did what anybody would do desperate for Wi-Fi. I went to the nearest Starbucks. The only problem is I like to work in a place that’s quiet and private, like home. Somewhere I can be in my pajamas (but I tell you people it’s yoga pants), somewhere I can have my hair piled on top of my head and my funky reading glasses on with nary a stitch of makeup. I can’t be caught dead like this. Even in desperate times vanity rears it’s well coiffed head.
Continue reading this post on Linda Wolff’s blog, Carpool Goddess