Off Line

The Burrow was disconnected.  Cut off from the world.  No way out.  No way in unless you knew my phone number and could text me.

It was exhilarating, for a while.  There was nothing I could do.  It was not my problem to solve.  I never turn on the tv when I am at home, so I wasn't as unhappy as TBG, who missed his talking heads and Perry Mason.  

Anyway, the recorded voice told me that it would be fixed by 11:15.  I did some holiday shopping, sewed on a button for Amster, gardened with Prince scholars, and drove home to find that 11:15 had come and gone and that the recording now projected a 5pm fix.

Were I conspiracy minded, I'd go down a rabbit hole of losing-the-internet-and-tv-on-election-day, but I'm already on the edge of complete freak out so I closed off that door.

5 o'clock came and went.  Our internet stayed where it was, blocked in the ether, stuck in the fiber optic cable, magically vanishing without saying goodbye.  The recorded voice now said it would be fixed as soon as possible.  It also reassured me that their technicians were working very hard to solve the problem.  

That may well have been true, but you couldn't prove it by the state of the electronics in our home.  As the minutes turned into hours, TBG's need for aural stimulation led him to the dusty DVDs on the high shelf in the hall closet and soon we were flopped on the bed, happily watching Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland eat up the scenery in Robin Hood.

Then he got hungry.  I took myself out to the kitchen, relishing the silence.  Alone, I took out my hearing aids and let the quiet consume me.  It took me a while to start cooking; it was the most peaceful I'd been in a long time.

Then It's Back!! rang out happily from the bedroom and there was noise and exultation and televisions on everywhere and I kept my hearing aids out for just a little bit longer.

I can't say that I am sorry to have missed the speculating on MSNBC and CNN or the sports trivia on all the ESPN's (yes, there are many, and we have them all).  All that noise that is balm to his soul and which mostly just irritates mine was back and he was so happy that I took a moment to be grateful that this was at the top of my Aggravating Factors List.  

But everything seemed very loud.  The tv's volume, set 5 steps lower than usual, felt like too much as he began flipping from college basketball to Dave (an inspired choice for Election Night) to the screaming heads and their garish graphics filled with no information at all.  

I was glad for Kevin Kline and for the internet and for the smile that everything-is-working-again put on TBG's face.  I was glad that my cell phone provider and my internet provider are distinct entities.  I'll be glad later on tonight when our local races are counted and I can access the results.  I'm glad that I can post this to you.

But it was kind of nice to be disconnected.