I woke up this morning to find my husband pacing up and down with the phone to his ear. He covered the phone and hissed at me, "No internet!"
I didn't know what to do. I always start the day by checking my blog for comments, and checking the blogs I follow so I can leave comments.
I turned on my laptop computer to see if I could find an unsecured wi-fi network in the neighborhood, but couldn't. By the time I decided I should play FreeCell on the laptop instead, my husband was off the phone, so I expected an explanation.
Nothing much was forthcoming. The people at shaw.ca had noticed our signal was "getting low" recently, but hadn't bothered to tell us. Just the signal to our house? We don't know. The computers at the public library work just fine, and there isn't a long lineup behind us, or any lineup at all, so we assume we're the only ones on the horns of this dilemma.
Now, do we move into the public library, bag and baggage? No, there's a sign declaring "No pets allowed" so we wouldn't be able to bring our dog Lindy.
What to do, what to do? I feel as if someone has cut off my right arm. How did I, an early baby-boomer, become so emotionally dependent upon something at which I'd once scoffed?
This is all so surreal. I remember life before the internet, years and years and years of it, but can I recreate it now? No, I cannot. I am hooked. Even 48 or 72 hours of it seems impossible now. This empty feeling must have a label. Is it addiction? Or is it co-dependence?
