Almost Back to What Passes for Normal

A fair amount of shouting and a temporary cable later, we rather tenuously have an internet connection. Nobody breathe hard or speak loudly--I might even get to keep it until they can actually repair the original which is now clutched in the rootball of the fallen tree (who knew squirrels wanted internet access?). We had a bit more wind yesterday which managed to tear the top of yet another tree which then fell directly on the transformer outside our house....which, as you might guess, knocked out our power yet again. I may have whimpered. But PSE are my new heroes--they had it back up in an hour and all is right with the world. However, in the "WTF?" department for today, check this out:

I have had to call our local cable carrier several times over the last few days because of our lack of internet and cable TV (same cable). And when you call, you punch a series of buttons (sadly there isn't one that says "If you're about to bash the phone against the wall 27 times because you're so sick of these prompts, please press 1 and someone will be right with you") and listen to a series of recordings. The prompts include questions about why you're calling so that by the time you get to where you're waiting for a representative, they already know that your cable is out and you need service restored. As I'm waiting in the queue that never ends, I hear this recording in an obscenely cheerful voice: "Did you know that you can access our services online? Send us an e-mail at (whatever address) and we'll get back to you within one business day, sparing you the time waiting on the phone." Lady, if I could access ANYTHING online, I guarantee I wouldn't spending my Christmas Eve sitting on the couch with a cell phone in my hand listening to muzak Christmas carols just for the dubious pleasure of talking to yet another bored and unhelpful service representative.

Not that I'm bitter or anything. I'm just saying.

They're going to come out on Friday to assess the situation (a long and painful story goes with that, and I will spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that while I did avoid suggesting that the umpteenth unhelpful person at the cable company do something anatomically impossible and likely uncomfortable, I did use the voice that makes even my husband run for the shop) and, since I know they can't leave without assessing and handling the situation, I really wish I could answer the door thusly:

"Thank you for coming to the Knitingale home. We are experiencing an unusually large volume of pissed-offedness due to incompetent service, and we appreciate your patience. Please be advised that we are working round the clock to meet the needs of the imbeciles who come to our door in the guise of knowing anything whatsoever about their apparent jobs, but some delays may occur. If you are here to scratch your head and stare confusedly at the damaged cable, please reconsider and at least PRETEND you know what you're doing, even if it requires consulting a manual. If you are here to tell me that the problem is a widespread outage even though everyone around us has power, please duck as I have about had it with that and a large heavey object (such as a useless computer) will be winging towards your head in about 30 seconds. If you are here to tell us for the 12th time that you cannot help us because we don't have power, even though I've told you repeatedly that we do, please slip your hand into the opening in the door so that I might slam it repeatedly in hopes of bringing you to your senses. If you are here to write up another repair order to join the 1200 that I suspect are even now being used as coffee coasters at the main office, please step closer so that I can write the order on your forehead in magic marker where it will more likely be seen. If you are becoming cold and wet waiting for my attention, please know that I am sipping a hot coffee as I enjoy your discomfort. Your visit is important to us, so please stay out in the rain while we process your request. And, did you know that you can access us online? We can't get the message because we still don't have any freaking internet service thanks to you assclowns, but the time you take to send the message is time you won't spend driving me nuts. Thank you again for your patience, and thank you for coming to the Knitingale home. Wait time now is approximately 3 hours."

Okay, so I'm a little bitter.

I'm afraid that a week and a half without internet has my dear Mr. K as jumpy as I am, so I promised him I would keep this short and allow him some time, too. Tomorrow I'll return to my more or less daily postings. Thank you again to all of you for hanging in there with me. Now, can anyone remember why I think it's so way cool to live around all the tall trees by the ocean where the storms blow in?