0245 to 1115

Things-to-do-When-you-are-bored-at-Home1

What do you do when your service provider goes down in the wee hours of the morning?

I play a game or two on the computer where

Hey Kid! The First One’s Free!

I futz around in my Excel budget file and look at how much money I don’t have and how it has to be spent. I check the connection again.

I play another game or so and get aggravated that I don’t win as often as I’d like.

Then I check the connection again.

I curse Comcast, realizing in hindsight that it’s too late. They are already cursed.

I walk outside and smoke a cigarette because I can’t smoke inside. Adultery is permitted. Smoking is not. I wouldn’t commit adultery—I’m just saying . . . ya know?

Sure you do. I think you’re with me so far. Right? Say “Right.” Humor me, please. I’m in a fragile state at the moment. Thanks.

I contemplate committing adultery, and I contemplate introducing my modem to my cane.  I do neither, because while all things are permitted, not all things are profitable.  Sure.  That’s the reason.

I check what I have written wrote so far and correct for passive voice.

Then I check the connection. I notice an oncoming headache, and preemptively strike with a Tylenol.

I wonder just how bored I am to write such drivel? I start looking at the clock more often? 0430? Good Lord!

I go for another smoke and hope to see Popeye by the door. Who’s “Popeye?” Guess.

Before I go outside to poison myself, I pause to check the connection. CRAP!

Thinking that perhaps my provider is just shy and is waiting for me to leave the room to turn itself back on, I immediately check it upon returning from my smoke. Nope.

I reset the modem for the fourth time. With extreme and express ennui, I watch the modem lights blink until they become steady—still nothing . . .

I practice my diction and spitball big words without a hard-copy dictionary as a safety net. Why?

BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE INTERNET CONNECTION! THAT’S WHY!!

Did I take that Tylenol? I’ll be right back. O.K. Thanks for waiting. I think I’ll pay a visit to the Crazed Writer’s Room and lie down for a moment or two . . . or three . . .. (But consecutively not concurrently) Talk amongst yourselves. I’ll give you a topic.

The InterNET is not a real net.

Discuss

0600.  The recording promised 0600. It’s 0601. Still nothing and I am wondering how much longer I can justify this article and how the hell I’m going to end it.

Like this is as good and true as any.

Thanks for listening to my early morning rambles.

michael

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