Disconnected
For the last 4 days, I’ve been disconnected. Millenium, my
current cable provider, had a surprise in store for this
weekend: they were “upgrading” the lines. Lucky for me, it
was the gift that kept on giving. The end result was that
I didn’t have access to the internet from home for quite
a while.
I put “upgrading” in quotes very much on purpose. It’s not
the first time and it most certainly won’t be the last time
an upgrade occurs in my neighborhood and I never see any
benefits. I’m not begrudging Millenium in particular.
Being used and abused by a cable company is par for the course.
I’d probably shed tears if these mysterious upgrades were
accompanied by offers of discounted service. Without
the proper amount of bitching, the meter
keeps on ticking even when service stops.
Four days away made me very aware of how much I rely on the world
behind my little mouse pointer. I needed to know what
was on television and I had to consult a TV guide. The shuttle
went down and I had to rely on the newspaper for facts. I
wrote a quick
blog and had to resort to 3 1/2 inch floppy to
transport my words to a machine worthy of internet access.
A 3 1/2 inch floppy! Is there no justice in this world?
The little lights on my router would occasionally blink and
then fade away in dispair. I felt its pain.
The three weeks I spent at home with my son left me with
similar feelings of disconnection. Although, in this case, it was the
focus on something not the lack of something that
fueled my separation anxiety. The baby controlled my
sleep schedule. Cold weather prevented expeditions
outside. It was me, the wife, and the baby. Everything
else was secondary. The world was definitely still turning.
It was just hard to see from the bedroom window.
Now that window is open. I’ve returned to work. But the
blessings are mixed. I see less of my wife. I see less
of my son. On the other hand, I see other adults on
occasion and get to plug into the real world for short
periods of time. There’s also the nice side benefit
of being able to provide food for my family without donning
a codpiece and spear and venturing into the nearby woods.
It fills some holes while leaving others empty.
I just wish I felt I was venturing into the world rather
than being dragged along by it. The happy faces at
home tug me away from the hustle and bustle.
Maybe that’s why I’m always so anxious to return to them.
