At approximately 11:30 on Saturday morning just as Husbando and I were comfortably settling in in front of our computers with our breakfast (what, that’s normal isn’t it?) when two things happened. One, the Olympic coverage on our TV froze and two, our internet went down. Then the Olympics came back but the internet did not.
We’d been experiencing connectivity issues for about a week and having waited an hour or so for it to come back up Kevin decided he’d had enough and called The Man to find out what the hell was going on. The tech guy helpfully informed him that there were 13 modems down in our "area" and they’d call us when the situation was resolved. Four hours later, still no phone call or internet and my husband, barely holding himself together, called for a status report. This time he was told that service to our "area" had been restored and that ours was the only house not up and running. Would he like to schedule a service call next Saturday to check the cabling in our house?
You might have heard the echoing, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" as far as your place.
He managed to talk them into coming Monday night then hung up and went and whimpered in the corner, "But but, what am I going to do?" as he rocked back and forth hugging his knees.
I had been out walking the dog during when he placed the second call and I had noted two houses that had just been put up for sale in the ‘hood. As it is imperative that I know the list prices of homes the instant that they are put on the market, I was quickly reduced to my own fit of whimpering when I became apprised of the situation. How dare Rogers expect me to wait until Monday evening to stalk my neighbours! In the ensuing hours I quickly discovered that I have an intense addiction to Google. I tried to be cool about the whole thing and even snottily told Kevin during one of his laments, "There ARE other things to do around here!" but inwardly I was quite sure I would go insane if I couldn’t Google the connection between lactic acid and long-track speed skating immediately.
Fortunately, I had plans to eat Indian food and watch Mad Hot Ballroom with Lisa otherwise I might have been found running up and down the street banging on doors and howling for someone to Google a list of terms for me. (As a sidebar: On the way home from Lisa’s pad, my streetcar was stopped by emergency vehicles for about thirty minutes and we all got to see this poor woman being wheeled out of her apartment building). If you don’t live with a computer tech-type you might not be aware of how determined they can be when it comes to their beloved machines. Asking a computer tech-type to wait for another computer tech-type to arrive when they themselves are a computer tech-type is a special sort of torture.
The sort that will not be tolerated! During my absence, my crazed yet lovable tech-type systematically plugged the cable modem into all the other outlets in the house to see what would happen. He cursed the locked cable box outside. He considered other plausible causes of the problem. He got in the car, drove to a nearby Rogers store and demanded a new modem.
When I got home I found him curled up asleep on the couch, exhausted from his ordeal, dreaming no doubt of the magical realm of online gaming, the internet running on his pc and all was well with the world. It was, at least, the very minute that I found the listings for those two houses.