In knee deep snow on Monday, I found myself hanging out laundry to dry. The wind-chill was 27 degrees, but the sun shone brightly for the first time in a week. The kids were running out of warm pajamas to wear, and I thought I'd see what I could do about it. My little hair-brained idea worked quite well! I should actually be out there again today doing my own; this promises to be our last sunny day this week, with some sort of precipitation, as yet to be decided, heading for us again in time for Christmas. The weathernerds can't seem to make up their minds; maybe snow, maybe rain, maybe ice. I now thoroughly understand why, one year, one of the weathermen showed up on tv with what looked like a busted lip, which he never conveniently mentioned. He was the same guy that, during the blizzard of '93, swore we would only get two inches of snow. Twelve hours later, we had 3 feet of the stuff.
Instead of dashing out into the snow to do more laundry, I find myself staring restlessly off into space. I look over at our modem every few minutes to see if all of the lights have come back on; I pick up the phone to see if there's a dial tone yet; I check the weather program on my netbook to see if it's stopped displaying that hateful "Not Connected" message. Monday at 10am, there was a recording saying they hoped to have our services restored within 2 hours. Turns out, the recording was out of its' mind. It's all still very much dead, with no estimate of when we will have use of them again. I called at 4:45 yesterday to see if there was an update, and one very unhelpful lady suggested I reboot my modem. I pointed out that I hardly saw how that would fix my phone, and besides that, I had already tried to reboot the modem and router; I'm not that inept; something is broken. This is who they have for tech support? I had my husband call back, and someone else told him that the woman I'd spoken to was out of her mind, as well [in fact, I came very close to telling her that, myself]. It is madness. Our satellite tv has worked beautifully the entire time, including when the snow was pouring down on Friday with no end in sight; that we also have satellite internet is quickly becoming a dream of mine, even though it's too expensive and not fast enough. At least it's reliable.
I feel entirely, unwillingly, cut off from the rest of the world. I guess I essentially am, and going stir crazy as a result. Every time one of the dogs bark outside, I fly to the window to see if there is a repairman out there, come to rescue me from my secluded hell. Have you ever noticed how most repair trucks are white? Yeah. White trucks, and the guys wear steely gray uniform shirts. I have come to equate this with a knight in armor riding up on his white stallion. I am a needy, dependent, damsel in distress with a dragon that needs slaying. Today would be a great time for him to show up... maybe even a whole team of them. I will try not to hold my breath, though; it's been 4 days already, and the dogs have decided to bark at anything that moves, or simply for no reason at all. Perhaps they have taken the notion that they can bark the snow away. It *is* finally starting to melt a little.
I am reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. The children have been glued to video games since yesterday, having lost all interest in the snow outside. My youngest may even be looking forward to it melting; my daughter hasn't said anything at all about it. They both spend endless amounts of time creating endless streams of chatter, each vying to be heard over the other. This has pushed my "Happy Hour" up by an hour or two in order to cope. My husband has gone back to work since Monday night; he said our own driveway and main road are still trecherous, though the roads in town and even other back roads in other towns aren't so bad. I'm trying not to take it personally, as if my town were conspiring to keep our little road trapped for some little sociology experiement. I spent my alone time last night playing piano, watching tv, reading, [staring at the modem, picking up the phone], and combing every inch of our house for the rare Bermuda Triangle of cellphone reception. I found one tiny spot, smashed up against our bedroom wall next to the bathroom, that waivered anywhere from between one to three bars. It meant I didn't have to go outside at 10:15 at night to call my husband. It was the highlight of my day. Really. Well, that and the discovery that I could get clothes to dry in a 27 degree wind chill. The approaching storm promises to take those things away, and who knows what else it'll take; the electricity again? Will the phone and internet be repaired in time to be taken out again as soon as things get ugly, if they do?
I would love for the highlight of today to be that steely gray clad repairman driving up in his white truck to fix my portal to the outside world. I believe, for my own sanity's sake, it has to happen soon. Yesterday I found myself clicking the "work offline" button, and reading cached pages. So close, yet so far away. Some day my repairman will come.
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