It started like any other Friday. Mr. Pinault woke to go to work, I woke to start my weekend. I opened my PowerBook to check the final score on the previous night’s Celtics-Lakers game, and then the day took a horrifying turn: There was no internet.
I checked the wireless connection, rebooted the router, and frantically clicked Firefox’s Reload button. When Mr. Pinault emerged from the shower, I bayed my alarm. I’m thinking of forcing him to abide by a new wedding vow: Wilt you have this woman to be thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, and ensure her eternal access to Internet? (Women who marry auto mechanics will never be troubled by cars. Women who marry accountants will never have to do their own taxes. If I marry a computer geek, I will never have computer problems.)
He dutifully surveyed the wires and scratched his head.”You better call RCN,” he said, referring to our cable company. The enormity of what was happening was sinking in. “They send us e-bills. How am I supposed to get their telephone number without the internet?”
We dug through a pile of (sneer) paper and found an old bill from RCN. A pre-recorded message greeted me on the phone:”We are currently experiencing internet outages in New York and Massachusetts.” Just to be certain, I confirmed with a groveling customer service lady that our lack of internet was entirely due to RCN incompetence.
Initially, I pined for Internet. Reload. Reload. Reload. Then, I pulled out the sewing tht I have been neglecting, and replaced missing buttons and repaired tears. I just re-read My Antonia by Willa Cather, and sitting in my silent living room, sewing bereft of internet, I felt like an austere Nebraskan prairie woman. Reload. Reload. Reload.
The internet was out all day Friday, and it is still out. I’m posting this from an internet-equipped Bolt Bus as I make my way from Boston to New York City seated next to a snoring, snorting fat man with bad breath. I am overjoyed that a low-fare bus line can provide surprisingly speedy internet, and since I have nothing to do for the next four hours, I will soak myself in it unabashed, for yesterday was the Friday without Internet.
(Since I have no way of knowing when RCN will fix what Mr. Pinault is calling a “redundancy issue,” posting may be spotty for the next couple of days.)
