A Twist of Things to Come

My ISP notified us that our internet a and Phone service would be offline for about 45 minutes, sometime between midnight Monday night and 6am Tuesday morning. That was fine, because, yanno, we should be sleeping. (I actually had some insomnia that night, so I had occasion to notice it was out. I am aware how lame that makes me. *cheesy grin*)

What I didn't expect was that my Internet service (and home phone!) would be out of service for most of the day on Wednesday, and going out at odd intervals all day today. During times I had set aside for the purpose of beating the website To DO list into shape.

So, you get the code right, you hit enter to upload it... and then you get Try Again Later messages. Check phone -- no dial tone. Twenty minutes later, DIAL TONE! Begin uploading nifty website stuff. Hit Enter. Unable to Locate Server. No dial tone.

So, I opened writing files and was later surprised when my email program notified me I had mail. So it was working again! Reply to email. Get "Unable to Locate Server" message. Auuurrrgghh!

You know what the really messed up thing is? Technical difficulties actually made me feel better about my life, today. No foolin'.

I haven't written about Natasha Richardson, or various recent internet kerfluffles, or how I accidentally discovered that some folks really DO need, on some deeply personal level I don't quite understand, to be outraged by something for it to be important. You know? Like, if you're not emotionally torn up about something, it must not be important to you. *surprise* I'm one of those weirdos who thinks that when something is *truly* important, that is when we need to be our most rational, our most willing to understand each other.

If something is important to me, it becomes more important than my ego. I have no comprehension of the habit of thought that keeps people from admitting they were wrong about something. Or makes them see politeness and understanding as a weakness.

It's just alien to me. I've been puzzling over it, trying to make it make sense, while at the same time thinking about Natasha Richardson. How close I am to her in age, how close in age our children are.

And then there's the realization that, with that sort of brain injury, someone had to give the termination of life support order. Like I had to with my mom. I would not, literally WOULD NOT wish that sort of decision on my worst enemy.

Yup. That's me cracking up, going all emotional and gooey over something very remote from me, but still somehow really close. (What if my boys had to grow up without me?)

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So, you know, fantasizing about my Internet Service Provider lying dead with a spork in every orifice was actually very good for my mood.