Reconnected, Muzzle Fashion and Getting Older

Just when everything starts to fall into place, the internet dies.

It’s been out for a month, I think. The provider we had was crap on a good day and we’d been talking about changing since the hurricane last year. After the storm, when power was restored, I called them to ask how long it would be until we had service. I’d heard the building they owned over in the next town had washed away, so we knew it was going to be a while, I was just looking for an estimate. 

“We’re not showing an outage in that area.”

It took a second to register. I was caught off guard. Hurricane Helene was all over the news. I argued that I knew it was out, that we’d barely gotten our electricity back on.

“Can you disconnect the cable from the router? Wait 10 seconds then plug it back in.”

The entire downtown of our little speck of a village was gone, but the CSR wanted to fix it by unplugging the router.

I thanked her and hung up. 

Later, when we got the bill, I called to get a credit for the time it was out. They had to Google our town to see if there had indeed been a storm. 

So, when destructo puppy ripped the phone line out of the modem for the 100th time and the only fix was going to require my calling them for a repairman visit, I looked around for an alternative. There were rumors on the Book Face that a local company was installing fiber internet in town. 

It took a while for the new company to come out, but the planets aligned, the universe smiled down on us and all is finally fixed. 

Hallefreakinlooyah.

When I tell you my sanity was hanging on by a thread, I'm not exaggerating. I was thankful for the unlimited data on my phone, but we barely get a signal down in this holler. Trying to go online to manage prescriptions (because I am old) was a challenge and when I called the pharmacy for help, they gave me attitude (probably also because I am old.) I didn't feel like explaining WHY I was having a problem and I think they assumed it was due to the cobwebs I likely had clogging up my brain.

I'm going to be the crotchediest of crotchedy old ladies. It's only a matter of time until I'm required to wear a muzzle to the Dollar General, lest I bite a small child who has slightly inconvenienced me.

Speaking of aging, I'll be turning sixty in two days, officially entering the era of "no fucks left to give." And I can't wait.

Do muzzles come in purple? I'd like mine blinged out with rhinestones.

Until next time, ya'll take care. We'll chat again soon!