No Comcast? No Problem.

For the third time this month, Comcast decided that our service was an expendable part of their inventory.  Appointments were promised but never fulfilled.  We stayed home and waited, three times, with no technician knocking at my door.

After each failed appointment, the next step was to spend an hour or so trying then managing to reach a supervisor after navigating chat hell.  Everyone along the way wanted to help me reboot the tv.  They didn't seem to care that we'd been there/done that with several prior iterations of the same request, all to no avail.

Supervisors eventually entered the chat, all with Southeast Asian names, all totally delightful as chat partners, none remotely capable of securing a technician to resolve the issue.   At the end of each chat session, with an appointment time in hand, I gave the agent a rating of 10.  None of those promises resulted in a solution.  Unfortunately, there is no way to go back in time and change their ratings.

At 7pm, after 12 hours of this endless cycle of hope then despair, I expressed skepticism that the final scheduled appointment would actually happen.  The supervisor replied that this was a certainty since "I shouted at them that they must be at your doorstep between 8 and 9pm."  I complimented her on her attitude, thanked her for taking drastic measures, rated her a 10 out of 10, and  waited.

Nothing.

I called back, spent another hour connecting to a supervisor, and after securing an appointment for Monday afternoon with a waiting list prayer for Sunday afternoon, we put Saturday to bed.

TBG needs his television.  His mother spent her days with the tv as background noise. He spent his working life surrounded by screens.  It feels unnatural to him when the room isn't connected.  The DVD player kept him occupied with Zorro while he wasn't fuming about the lack of service.  That worked for Saturday.  

Sunday found him rummaging in the pile of old DVDs (never complain about my packrat tendencies again!!).We had only one season of Justified; I enjoyed ogling Timothy Oliphant for a couple of hours. 

But the rest of the day loomed before us.  We swam.  We drove to Dairy Queen for milk shakes.  We tried to be outside, but the heat drove us back to the DVR and the pile of cd's.  

And there she was, our savior, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher and her murder mysteries. 

The clothes, the cars, the stories, the acting - there is nothing to improve, nothing to dislike.  In between the pool and the milk shakes and the mandatory walk around the house after each episode to insure that we did not permanently bond to our seats, we watched episode after episode (with closed captions, of course).  We had a picnic dinner.  We watched the sun set (purples and oranges and a brief shot of red at the end).  

Woke up this morning with the vague hope that someone will come and hook TBG up to his electronic world.  Between his spin class and my visit to Prince Elementary school to open the garden, we should be happily occupied until the technician is scheduled to arrive.

Scheduled. 

I have no confidence at all that this will happen, but I'm not worried.  There are more discs to watch.