~ I’ve had an unusually long string of trouble free internet, maybe more than a years worth. So it stands to reason that in this, the age of technically superior things, where we should be shamelessly more advanced than we were years ago, the farking computer and the fooking Isp have gone into double secret negotiations over the weekend and left me with a donkey and cart for surfing. Yet again, I might add.
If I had dial-up access, on a party line, in Moose Jaw, in the middle of an ice storm while using a Donald Duck See-n-Say computer, I’d have had faster service than I had all weekend.
Oh you just KNOW I’m gonna be throwing money at this thing today.
~ Ally was feeling a little world weary this weekend, so for the large part I kept her company. In the living room. Recliners. In front of the TV. We ate comfort food and wore slippers. Well, she wore the slippers. I wouldn’t be caught dead in ‘em.
Between her and the internet it was a lot like swimming in molasses. I’ve never presented myself as a big fan of fast living, or having to be on the go all the time, but hokey smokes. Can we all say . . . slow-setting plaster?
~ 7 pm Sunday night. “Okay, we’ve had the homemade chili, we’ve watched three straight sci-fi movies, the computer is tanking, you wanna go have a nightcap at the Watering Hole or would you rather just lay there and fester?”
~ “Say, have you found any new listings for houses in Carolina?”
“No, I can’t. The internet is pokey, remember? I’m not gonna sit here and try to open a half dozen realtor sites and go through 40 listings on each of ‘em with this toaster oven. Gonna have to wait ‘til I fix it.”
“Can’t ya just get a newspaper online, like from their hometown or something?”
“Pokey. Computer. It goes slow on newspapers too, dear.”
“Well surely you could get something, if you’re willing to wait a while.”
“Tell you what. I’ll click on a site, we go and get a nightcap at the Watering Hole and by the time we get back, it might have loaded up. Might, mind you.”
“I told you I’d rather not go to the Hole.”
“Well there you go. I can fester just as good as you can.”
~ It speaks volumes about how I interpret the words ‘Incorrigible Slacking’ when it’s in the sunny mid-60’s all weekend and all I can find to do is whine about a slow computer. I find that outdoor activities tend to relate to the status of my lawnmower at any given time. And right now, it’s wrapped in a tarp with the oil and gas drained out of it.
Kinda like me.
~ And you’re telling me that all I have to look forward to is a Super Bowl from Detroit?
~ It’s a quarter to nine in the morning. Any minute now I’m gonna try to post this thing so I can drive up to the Software Store and start the process of sacrificial offerings to the computer gods. Given the rate at which these processes, and the attending suffering, suck the very soul out of my expected life span, it’s entirely possible that I might surface again tomorrow.
But I’d better get cracking if I hope to make it so.
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