Little Green Light
I wasn’t very good yesterday. I was in a stew, in turmoil. I could see this, observing myself, but not able to do much about it, to calm things down.
Wednesday night we could not connect to the Internet. Down under the desk, back in the corner, one little green light about 2 millimetres in diameter was not on. No connection. My husband tried the old modem to see if it was our router’s fault or not; that didn’t work either. The old modem brings up 3-5 successive windows, saying things like do you want to connect to the internet? If I say yes, because of course I do want to, it says, well, you can’t, your system is all messed up. Are you sure you want to cancel this? Etc., etc. I manage to find a message from our service provider but there is no phone number, it just says if you need to contact us, click here. OK, I can go an evening without internet, and hope things will be better the next day.
However the next day, that little green light still won’t come on. I work on other things, like a holiday greeting card, encouraging us all to build a better world of peace and love, but I am not in peace. The files navigator makes that noise I can’t stand, a sort of tsk, tsk. That I eliminate. One thing fixed. My husband found the number to call and says it is up to me to call them because he has a very long day. He is also in the throes of a mighty cold.
So I dial the number, press the buttons. One word is muffled in the messages so I don’t know whether to press 1 or 2. The machine says “we’re sorry, we didn’t understand your last entry.” That’s understandable, I didn’t make one. It plays through again and I make a choice. A real person comes on the line. She starts asking me do we have lightening protection. I say yes. She says is it on, is the light flashing? I say, it is part of our electrical installation, that is in another building and even if I were standing in front of the flashing lights, I wouldn’t know which one is for that. She says, Madame D. is any one else there? No, not right now. Madame D. do you have anyone who can help you? Her tone must be due to special training. I suppose everyone who calls them is in a state, but it makes me feel like a blithering idiot. She says she will call back at six when I think my husband will be home. Again, I am thankful we keep the sledgehammer in another building, away from the computer. Physical labor, that’s a good idea. I resist smashing things or getting smashed myself and go outside and scrape up mud, muttering all the while.
The chickens pace, wondering when will she let us out. Is it my imagination or are they thinking, look at all that scratching and she isn’t even eating the bugs. What a waste! When I do let them out, they go over each clod thoroughly before I can put it in the wheelbarrow.
I remember my husband complaining about me doing this, saying he would rather have grass. The problem with leaving the grass is next thing you know, there are trees and brambles, and it looks like no one lives here.
The person did not call back, my husband came home, re-installed the router, called the service. They unplugged and re-plugged on their end, and the little light came on.
Then we talked it all out. He said the person was overly polite with him too. I thought I had been very calm, reserved when he got home, but he felt under attack. All he wanted was to go to bed, exhausted from his cold. I told him about my ruminations, how he says if I die, the garden will go because he can’t do everything. How if he dies, there’ll be no internet here, nothing that takes batteries will run anymore and all the tires will be flat. He said there is only one solution—we will have to go together. All my frustrations dissipated. (He said the yard looks good.)