I was a little concerned when I realised at 1815h that P. still hadn’t called to tell me he was on his way home. He always does that because we play a game with the cat. The cat loves daddy, so P. calls to tell me he’s on his way, then calls again just as he’s pulling into the alley beside the house (less than one minute to his parking spot), except I don’t answer the second call because it’s only a signal. I taught the cat that when I say, “It’s daddy time!” he should be excited because his beloved daddy will be home almost immediately. When I say that, the cat comes running from wherever he was (assuming he wasn’t on the floor next to my chair, annoying me with persistent and pathetic pleas for attention), then jumps up and into his window-mounted “cat veranda” to watch for the car. When P. gets out of the car, he comes to the window and gives the cat scritchies through the bars. Cat is happy and thinks I’ve somehow magically produced his favourite human on the planet. Yeah, it’s kind of a dumb thing to do, but P. likes it and the cat thinks it’s fun (must, or he wouldn’t do it), plus it’s kind of cool to teach commands to a cat; a creature notorious for being uninterested in obedience. Even I get a kick out of the cat’s reaction to, “Look–window!” because that’s what I taught him to mean, “I have opened this window, so you have a new place to park your hairy, lazy arse and watch what’s going on outside.” Anyway, that’s why the calls from P. every day. Well, that and we’re married, and we sort of like each other most of the time, plus he has a fair distance to drive to get home. Although I trust his driving, I also happen to know the Interstate is full of the people to whom the state gave driver’s licences by virtue of the fact that they were still breathing, could see to at least peer through the steering wheel, and could manage to put an automatic into a forward gear for the road test (don’t laugh–I personally witnessed someone taking a driving test who did not remember she had to put a standard in gear to go forward. The examiner went back in the building to “give you some time to think”). Unfortunately, those would often be the people operating two-ton SUVs at 75 mph with one hand on a cell phone and the other changing CDs, steering with one knee.

I tried to call P.’s mobile, but it got sent straight to his voice mail. I left an annoyed message (fuckin’ voice mail), but decided to keep trying. My beloved iPhone doesn’t fit nicely between my ear and shoulder, and since I was ironing, I needed both hands (couldn’t be arsed to get a headset), so I switched to the landline phone to call again. It kept going to voice mail, and then I happened to glance over at the modem, which sits on the side of my desk. Power light was on, but the rest weren’t, and the “Receive” light was flashing. Fuck. Internet’s down. Fabulous. I put the house phone down to go unplug the modem for a reset, then came back in and tried again to call P. No dial tone. Great–the phone is down, too. I tried again from my mobile, and managed to get him this time. He was at the store, and had tried to call several times, but kept getting my voice mail. Another issue entirely, but I regret setting up voice mail because it seems to be jealous and wants me all to itself, so it is letting about 1/3 of my calls through, whether they come from mobile or landline, in the US or in Canada. Anyway, the cable and phone are down, so I go out to check the TV. Nothing on any channel. Crap…that means something bad must have happened because if there’s one thing at which Charter is very, very good, it’s keeping the masses happy with their sports and shitty reality shows. We’ve had them for eight years now, and if the cable TV’s been down more than a few times (once was because a tornado hit this town), I’m not aware of it. Internet goes down often, but TV and phone…no. I knew why–tornado season doesn’t “officially” start until March, but we did have some bad electrical storms in the area–but knowing why doesn’t restore connectivity.

When P. got home (he brought me a Wendy’s “homestyle chicken” salad, which is awesome-filled awesome, covered with awesome…and bacon, or at least Bac-Os), I told him all Charter services were down. He said, “Everything? We’re like savages!” I told him that he might be, but I wasn’t because I have my iPhone. Heh. There’s no 3G coverage in this area, but Edge is better than nothing, and although it was painfully slow at first (some sites even timed out), after half an hour or so, it got better and became at least useable, if not exactly blazing fast. Yeah, I could’ve played my little PopCap time-waster games, or read a book, or ($deity forbid) actually talked to my husband, but you never want to do any of those things when there aren’t other options. I’m absolutely an Internet addict; it takes about an hour without service before I start to get irritable, and yes, that applies even if I’m watching TV because I take my laptop with me so I have something to do during the 10 minutes of commercials in every half hour of programming. Yes, I know I’m pathetic. No, I don’t care.

Everything was back up and running this morning (well, I’ll assume the TV is–didn’t check) but last night, I was very grateful for my little friend the iPhone. No, it didn’t have to be an iPhone to be internet-capable, but…meh, if you’re gonna do it, do it right. 😉

P.S. Yay for jeans that fit properly again, too, and good riddance, holiday fat arse. Why I do that to myself every year, I’ll never understand, and how much longer I’ll get away without having to actually diet or exercise to correct it, I don’t know, but it’s good to feel human again!