So I got up this morning, not much of an agenda, just a nice day ahead to enjoy. Tried to log onto Facebook. There was no internet service. That was really neat. An hour-and-a-half later, no internet service. This digital joke was no joke at this point. To top it off, I could not find my iphone 6s Plus, you know, the one with the light pink Otterbox that should be seen for miles from whatever resting place it landed during my ADD housekeeping? That phone. Then it hit me. I'm cut off from the outside world. I got nothing in the way of communication.
If you are a constant communicator, as I am, that's some deadly bidness ("business" for those of you from north of the Mason-Dixon line). At some point I found my phone and headed on out to meet someone for a book discussion. After leaving her house, I made my way to Wal-Mart. I know some of you are far too fancy to enter the place, but I went in with bargains on my mind. I wanted, most specifically, some of those seasonal mini-flags. Of course they weren't where they had been over the summer. Of course not. I gathered a few groceries and headed home, a pumpkin-pie-flavored poptart hanging out of my mouth and three bags of mini-pumpkins from the produce department in my trunk (for a table arrangement) as I peeled out of the parking lot. I was going to grab myself some fall one way or the other, despite the stuffy summer-like air.
Back in the land of "gone-out," aka my dwelling, I got on the horn (pink one) with Charter, my cable company. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with my internet service but, since right in the middle of our struggles it popped back on like magic, we aborted the mission. The woman sent me over to the cable division, since I had a cable box I arrogantly insisted "DOES NOT WORK." Cue the sad music. Suburban housewife can't get cable to one of her four televisions. That's so sad. Look away. I patiently explained to the nice gentleman on the other end that I am an SEC widow and that, owing to the fact that two of the televisions are in my sons' bedrooms, I only really have two for myself and my husband and that I would be edged out every weekend during football season if he did not do something, and fast, about this dead box in the upstairs den off my bedroom. We had a Hallmark channel/On Demand movie emergency on our hands and I don't play when it comes to that type of thing. He immediately understood the gravity of the situation and began to send a series of signals to this errant box. No dice. He had me turn it on and off, something he referred to in very professional terms, something along the lines of reboot or refresh. In my world it was mashing the on/off button. No dice. This very nice young man made an appointment for a technician to ring my bell between 1 and 2 pm. I was very appreciative and had timed my Wal-Mart trip very precisely to allow for me to be intellectually refreshed by a new pot of coffee when the technician arrived, just in case he needed my help with further button mashing.
He was in my upstairs den for around ten seconds when he discovered that I had plugged something into the wrong spot on my box. That television suddenly sprang to life with a force that surged through the room like sun on a summer day! I would be making Christmas cards with Hallmark Christmas movies rolling in the background JUST LIKE A BOSS this fall! I would be stamping and watercolor pencilling and cross stitching like a pro while Fox News ran rampant during the election! I would be crying and hollering my way through one sad chick flick after the next from On Demand before I knew what was happening! It was like the movie calvary had come to rescue me from my own stupidity.
As Madea would say (please don't sue me, Tyler Perry. I'm just a pudgy housewife in Knoxville) "Halleluyer"!!!!
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