Victimized by an ironic and untimely lack of communication between two major phone companies (who shall remain nameless, revamped logos notwithstanding), my family and I are going on 36 hours with no internet connection. It’s a situation that will have us doubling over in laughter years from now I’m sure, but today I’m completely out of my element.
As a kid, I loved reading stories of frontier families like Laura Ingalls or Caddie Woodlawn. I used to try wrapping my head around the idea of laying in the tall grass, staring at the clouds for hours of carefree entertainment. I was envious of the upper body workout the women of the day must’ve gotten from dusk until dawn, milking cows, needing dough and churning butter. A shame, I thought, that sleeveless dresses weren’t in fashion. And how quaint and romantic it must’ve been to read by candle light and sit knitting in front of a roaring fire.
I thought that, as an adult, I could adapt a little better to this internet-less world. After all, I’m still fond of speaking to people on the phone and receiving cards and letters via ‘snail mail’. But after camping at my sister’s place all day so I could plug into my virtual office and watching my high schoolers reel over their inability to “talk” to their friends, I caved in and piled everybody in the car so we could connect at our generously-wired local library.
As for our internet connection snafu, after not receiving the promised call from the phone company letting me know when our service would be restored, I placed a call to them. They regretted to inform me that the service order was somehow never submitted yesterday. They assured me that they’ll call me tomorrow – at 9:30am sharp – to place the order and let me know how many more days we’ll have to rough it.
Sounds to me like it’s time to pull out the stationary and knitting needles…