I wasn't here last Tuesday; sorry about that. I had a diary sort of started; I'd written a headline at least. That was on the previous Thursday night. I spent time that evening thinking about what I wanted to say and how best to say it. (It was surprisingly hard to gather my thoughts this time.) I'd described what I had in mind to the person I wanted to write about. And mentioned that if she didn't like the idea to please let me know. I'd heard nothing back yet.
Then very early on Friday morning our power went out again. Annoying and inconvenient and not really surprising, given the thunderstorms we've had recently. Fortunately the outage was brief, everything came back on (including our well pump, yay!) except for the modem. Which I was leasing from Century Link, my phone/internet company. This device, which looks like an oversized version of one of those solid air freshener things you put in the bathroom and which sends your elderly aunt into a sneezing hissy fit when she decides to visit you unannounced (according to Uncle Joe she really wasn't dying of anaphylaxis, she was just being dramatic again) had a single round light on the front. Which shone green when it felt like doing it's job, and bright rage-y red when it was malfunctioning. Which it did with depressing frequency. I called it HAL. Anyway, HAL had apparently decided that today was a good day to die. And no amount of fussing with it was going to make HAL change it's made-in-China mind about that.
Around noon I gave up and called Century Link's customer service. After the usual round of "for this press one, for that press two, for something else recite the Pledge of Allegiance backwards" I was connected to an actual human being. A nice lady whose name sounded something like Mee Chee, but was probably Janet, because she did have a bit of an accent and the connection was very crackly.
You probably already know how that went. "Did you try unplugging it?" (yes, a couple of times) "Did you try using a toothpick to press the teeny-tiny reset button?" (ditto) "Did you try doing both simultaneously while hopping on one foot and barking like a dog like that girl Prince Akeem was supposed to marry in Coming To America?" (no, but if if there's a chance it might work...)
Anyway. After several minutes of fumbling and weird noises on Mee Chee/ Janet's end (I do not want to know what was going on) she finally comes back to say, "Your modem is dead, long live the modem! We're sending you a new one." Also, "it'll be there in three to five days. Be sure to send the old one back or we're going to charge you for it. We'll include a prepaid return label."
And you know, it wasn't so bad. It did last a full five days though. Definitely inconvenient at times. But not the sort of serious situation that, say, losing the power for that long would have been. (that has happened, and while I don't mind cooking over an outdoor fire, or reading by lamp light, being without running water the whole time really sucks.) It probably helped that I'd lived most of my life without the Internet, and I don't depend on it for my livelihood.
Come Monday a thought occurred to me- what if this was her way of telling me, "Nah, don't do that"? It made a certain sense; I hadn't been very specific about how she might let me know. I'd never said, "please tell me" (lesson learned). Anyway, I had decided that as soon as I was back online I'd delete what little I'd written. Truth is, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but beyond that I was floundering. And so I found other things to do in the meantime.
I read some terrific books. I sat outside and watched the swarms of hummingbirds at my feeders; their migration is underway, and I've been refilling the feeders at least once a day. I worked on the first painting project I've done since last winter. And I enjoyed five days and four nights without seeing or hearing a single damn word about Elon Musk or Donald Trump (that really was very nice). My physical therapy had ended, and because I only listen to the radio while driving, I had very little listening time for the news. I could have driven each day to a place with free Wi-Fi. But I didn't.
It wasn't so bad except for missing my friends. Apart from the family I still have, all of my dearest friends are people I communicate with online. If HAL the Second had not arrived when it did I was going to make the drive to Cottonwood, to use the free Wi-Fi available at the public library. Just so I could say hi to them, and see how everyone was doing. (did you miss me? Did ya miss me? TELL ME YOU MISSED ME DAMMIT!)
It prevented me from doing something that could have annoyed someone I really don't want to annoy. Once I was back online (several hours after the time my Tuesday diary would have been published), I came here and deleted the headline I'd created; maybe, eventually, the time might be right for that diary. I don't know for sure if she caused HAL the First to croak after less than a year; I haven't asked and she hasn't said. What I do know is, any possible misstep or offense would not have been in writing about her and my relationship with her, but in not doing it well. I simply wasn't ready.
I have books to read, a skull to paint, hummingbirds to watch, friends to enjoy, herbs to dry, and a blue supermoon to plan for. As well as another phone call to make to Century Link; they neglected to include that prepaid return label. And I don't like having the plastic and wire cadaver of HAL the First cluttering up the place.
Thank you for reading. This is an open thread, all topics are welcome.