I’ve moved, I’m in, and I’m online. Being without internet connection for the past few days has given me time to think about my next blog post. At first I wanted to write about the fantastic move on Saturday (it shows what 7 people hyped up on Dunkin Donuts can do in three hours), but since I don’t know where my camera is at the moment, I’ll wait on that one.
I could write about how I spent seven hours on the phone yesterday with multiple help people at Time Warner, Lynksys, and Apple to figure out why my modem/router/computer weren’t communicating to each other. The best part was that–for some reason–I’d elected to have the modem put in the basement. So these hours on the phone were spent down in the dankness. And you know how I feel about basements. But since I’m trying to move beyond that hair-pulling frustration, I’ll write no more on that issue.
What I really want to write about are my two most recent revelations.
1) I had never realized how absolutely essential plumbing and the internet were to my daily existence until neither one worked. At first glance, it might not seem like the two have much in commmon, but they occupy different ends of the same continuum: they both bring stuff in to your house (water and information) and they both take stuff out of your house (waste and communication). They’re both systems that are largely invisible and a headache to fix when they’re broken. And, they are both facets to my life that I never want to have to deal with again. Just work, please.
2) My second realization happened because I couldn’t get the lawn mower to start. I filled it with gasoline, primed the little black button, and held down the handle. Nothing. After 10 minutes, I laced up my running shoes and left the house for a long walk. I didn’t lock the door because I wasn’t sure if I was going to come back. My realization ? Tough for a feminist to admit, but it’s become painfully clear to me that I’ve been shielded from the woes and worries of machines and maintenace for 37 years by the three main men in my life: my father, my boyfriend, and my landlord. Those, my friends, were good years.
And now I’m off to move bookcases around and see if I can find my printer.