My Internet was shakey last Monday. You know, slow to get me to my favorite sites. Slow to download my mail. I was sad.
My Internet went out completely on Tuesday. I was left with a whirring colorful ball instead of loaded Internet pages and email.
I called for service. The tech talked me off the ledge. Said we needed a new part.
We replaced a part.
Still no Internet service.
I took my computer on the road on Wednesday. Panera. Wifi. Hah! I kept getting bounced off! The nerve!
I sulked. Thursday and Friday came and went. My husband Mike rattled wires. He ran tests. He couldn’t raise the Internet god. Admitting defeat, he called for service.
Until at least Monday when the Internet-summoning guru arrives.
It’s Saturday. I’ve given up on staring at the whirring colorful ball on my computer screen in the vain hope that it will morph into a connection. Instead, I’m sitting here drinking a cup of tea and thinking about getting up and out to a Starbucks or somewhere so I can reconnect and write when Mike walked in and said, “Did you know we have Internet again?”
Before the last word left his mouth I had my iPad in hand and was downloading — yes, downloading — 150 precious email messages. Yes!
After I calmed down I asked Mike when he had fixed the Internet, after all we got home after 10 last night. He denied all knowledge of fixing it.
“It healed itself!” he declared like a snake oil salesman of old.
I squinted at him.
Then dove for my computer.
P.S. This has all been a dream. Okay, It’s been a nightmare, a daymare. Our internet is not fixed. It keeps “cycling,” according to Mike. And that does not mean it’s taking a spin around the neighborhood on my blue bicycle.
Monday can’t come soon enough!