My husband has a comment that’s becoming a refrain. “You have enough to deal with.” He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t seem to stop the Universe, or whatever Chinese sage I annoyed mightily somewhere along the line. His comments are apropos the time and energy I am turning to ammeliorate crises and difficulties that are not my own. He’s right, of course. The tales are not mine to tell, but suffice it to say that I’m beginning to wonder if there isn’t a marriage-eating virus in the air. I have several friends whose relationships are in need of intensive work right now. Most are calm and civilized about it; one is thermonuclear. In all of them, most of what I can do is provide a caring ear, the occasional hug, and assurances of friendship. I can assure my friends that I will not leave them to go through whatever is coming at them alone, and mean it. In one instance, my husband and I have offered the shelter of our home; that friend should be arriving bag and baggage this evening.
But of course, the Universe does not consider that enough. I have unkind words for the customer service available from the phone company that holds sway over local service where we’re going. We have our service, but there is so much noise on the line that it’s impossible to hold a conversation. Service was just turned on Monday. But they won’t send a tech until mid-August, and someone has to be home to receive that individual. I got this word after I’d spent 30 mortal minutes on hold to get to the customer service rep in the first place. I suppose I should be grateful. I had needed a nap, and took one, lying on my bed and listening to hold music. (At least it was classical rather than elevator music.)
A further irritation is that there is no broadband internet in Boone Grove, Indiana. None. Zero. Zip. I’ve tried cable, satellite, DSL, and fiber-optic. None of them go there. Not one. Valparaiso University is 10 miles north, and some of the most heavily populated areas of the state literally 5 minutes drive away, and we can’t get broadband in any form. Why satellite in particular can’t be arranged mystifies me utterly. Satellite TV is available (cable isn’t), and it’s the same wiring as near as I understand it. Of course, I can drive to those places, camp at a place with wireless and work for the price of a cup of tea, but it’s more than a trifle inconvenient to have to put all my work in my backpack, along with my computer. And with the noise on the line that the phone company isn’t fixing, we can’t even use dial-up at the house. I like my internet, I do. I don’t want to be losing it. I’ve seen articles likening extending broadband “the last mile” into rural areas to the rural electrification projects of the 1930s. I hadn’t realized, until I started arguing with these companies, just how apt the analogy is. The people who run the farms that surround our new abode are running businesses. They need to be able to get the information that is so easily available to us city dwellers, probably considerably worse than spoiled suburbanites like me. They can’t. The high school that serves half the county – including the town which is home to the aforementioned university – can’t. And that’s absurd. Time for the wheel to start squeaking, I believe.
A marriage-eating virus?!!
So that’s what happened. Anybody got some good anti-viral meds?