••• Friday, March 11, 2005

Wire We Here?
It’s been a crazy week, which will soon lead to a crazier weekend, preceding another, well, another cycle.

There hasn’t been much knitting going on around here. My husband is working 14-hour days, so after work I’m not able to sit down until almost bed time. I have been making a special effort, lately, to get to bed on time (I'm finding this an amazingly refreshing practice...Has anyone else tried it?). But when I don't start knitting until 10pm, I have a tendency to stay up later, to experience full satisknitfaction.

I’m also depressingly behind in my blog ketchups and it didn’t help that my wireless was down yesterday and most of last night. And then blogger was down for a day, so I couldn’t post.

I did eventually get the wireless up and running, but only after an unsuccessful enlistment for help, from my husband*, as follows:
Honey, the wireless is down.

Let me try it. Hmmm. No AOL. Hmmm. No Enternet Eksplorer. Hmmm. Must be a problem with Comkast.

That’s brilliant, dear. And here I was blaming it on poor Cheddar, for munching on cat turds under the back deck, and thereby disturbing the delicate, cosmic balance between getting wireless and eating shit, less.

Sorry honey, I don't know what to tell you. But I gotta get back to work...
*My husband does not know much more than I do when it comes to wireless internet. Because he made the call to set up the wireless service, I have developed a highly illogical dependency upon him, for all things internet. It’s like a syndrome. Sunnyvale Syndrome, I think it is. (kind of like Stockholm syndrome, only, well, Sunnier.)

Later in the evening, I decide it’s time for me to break free of my self-imposed, psychological captivity and take the ballsy move to call Comkast. That’s right. All by myself. But first, I had to give the Cakers a popsicle, with the hope that it will keep her occupied, for a minute. At least.

So, The Cakers has her ‘sicle, and I get on the horn with a sweet-voiced young lady at Comkast. After I state the problem and go through the usual name/rank/serial number/denial-of-having-an-internet-addiction dealie, here’s what ensued:
Have you tried unplugging the power source?

To my computer?

No, ma’am. The power source to the cable access router.

Momma, Momma…I wanted purple.

I’m not sure what you’re talking about.

Popsicle, momma! A purple popsicle!

The modem, ma’am.

Isn’t the modem in my computer?

Not Orange. Purple!

Just a minute honey.

Not that modem…the modulater-demodulater unit. It should be hooked up to a cable that goes into the wall.


Is it black?

No, momma. Purple.

A black box, with lights?

Yes! That’s it. (I swear she giggles…) Can you unplug it, replug it then come back to the phone?

Yes! (I swear, I giggles)

Yes? I can have a purple one?

No. You have an orange one. Now, beat it. And eat it.

::Scoot to cable-routing-power-sourcing-modulatin-demodulatin’ machine to unplug, then plug again::

I wanna do it.

Okay. I did it.

I wanna plug it.

Go eat the orange popsicle, or I’m giving it to the dog. Now.



Can you try to log on again?

Not now.

I did. Got Nothing.

Have you tried rebooting your computer?

Just now?

No, earlier.

I want the purple one, Momma!


I can, Momma?

Not you. Cheddar! Come get an orange popsicle!

Okay mommy. I'll eat the orange one. I like orange, too. ::leaves room::

Ma’am. Can you now turn off, unplug and replug the computer? Then, once it’s rebooted, I want you to pull out and replug the wireless card, then try to log on, once more.

Tried it. Nothing.

Momma! Cheddar ate my orange popsicle. It's okay, it was an assident.

Assident, my ass.


Can I have a purple one?

I’m going to try something else, last resort.

Just a minute Ana.

I just gave your system an extra shot of juice. Now try to log on, one more time.

I’ve got mail!

::lady laughs:: Good! Can I do anything else for you today?

Can I interest you in a precocious toddler, a poop eating Labrador and an orange tinted popsicle stick?
Moments later, as I’m handing The Cakers her ill-gotten purpsicle, I say to myself: “Wouldn’t it have saved us a lot of trouble if she had tried the extra juice approach in the first place?"

As my now satisfied Cakers settles in with the once-coveted-now-munched-upon purple popsicle, I think I hear her say to herself: “Wouldn’t it have saved us a lot of trouble, if she’d have given me the Purple One in the first place?”

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