I composed a rather chewy blog post two nights ago about how our home currently does not have internet. I thought that I would be able to share my outdated torment with the disinterested world yesterday, when our internet was to have been restored, but the internet’s ghastly puppeteers at Verizon denied me the chance to air my cathartic rant by not showing up at our house during the agreed-upon service window of 8am to 12pm. Yes, the cable guy didn’t show up… must you be such a cliché, Verizon?
Our lack of Internet all started with Mr. P’s mortal rage towards RCN cable company, who had provided us with uninterrupted cable internet service for 18 months but hiked their rates on a near-monthly basis until we were paying $56/month for internet alone (we forgo cable TV and phone service). I didn’t care — honestly, I’d pay $100/month for internet — but our domestic IT infrastructure is solely Mr. P’s domain. I do the cleaning and the bulk of the cooking and shopping, and I don’t care as long as I never have to configure a wireless router or devise a data backup strategy for our digital pictures. It’s one of the perks of marrying a geek, aside from the grateful adoration and the mind-blowing sex.
Anyway, Mr. P decided to switch to Verizon, which is cheaper since it is modem-based and our phone landline is unused. The Verizon cable guy came to our house last week, bada bing, and we had adequate internet until last Monday night when it just stopped working. And when Verizon stood up Mr. P yesterday by not showing up to fix it, Mr. P’s mortal rage shifted from RCN (who now doesn’t look that bad) to Verizon.
“We’re switching to Comcast,” he decided.
So, our household will continue to be internet-barren until next week. But since we’re camping/hiking in New Hampshire over the weekend, we won’t miss it. Although… it’s hard to feel comfortable anywhere knowing that there’s no internet waiting for us at the house. It’s like there’s no food or hot water. It doesn’t quite meet the definition of home.
