who are the idiots (so called 'technicians') sent by Rhythms NetConnections, Inc. to install my DSL? For the fourth time, they came to my house, four hours late again, (but I was still waiting, again) and for the fourth time as I sat here, not thirty feet from the front door, they managed to leave a 'sorry we missed you' tag on the door knob, and dash away undetected. Don't they ring doorbells? Don't they even knock? I'm starting to wonder about the degree of competence, or lack thereof, they will exhibit after they get beyond the door.
Is this not unusual? Am I just indulging the displacement of my rage again? Within a week, it will be two months since I ordered DSL. Now, they give themselves 3-5 weeks to schedule installation, and on that count they're doing fine; they've scheduled it four times. Maybe they meant 3-5 attempts to install. Anyway, the point is that this is the THIRD time I have done this (the first time I didn't know they were coming--but I was here that time, too!) It is the third time I have gotten up at 8:00 AM (early for me), the third time I tidied-up in anxious anticipation of a magical stranger who will conjure 7.8 Mbps from a humble twisted pair, and the third time I have subjected myself to that wizard's breathtaking ineptitude.
It's the Universe. It's because I want it too much, and the Universe is telling me so. I mean, really, what's the point? I can waste time FASTER? I can watch my bank balance diminish more promptly? It's like me wanting a beeper--no, a cell phone! I don't return calls and seldom answer my phone, but wouldn't one of those shiney new Nokia's be cool, or a tiny StarTAC, oooooo. Why should it make sense? That's the reason I spend money, usually; because it doesn't make sense. It's a repudiation of something. ...I don't know what. It's me rejecting responsibility, turning my back on the Universe. But, you know the Universe. It's everywhere.
let me whine about something else. I spent the morning doing laundry. Then, in the afternoon (while fuming) I gussied-up the entry for yesterday, with some of those tedious effects I am so stuck on. And of course a pic of a hunk. (At least I think so.) I remembered the picture after rereading yesterday's entry. I remembered it like I just saw it in last month's issue. I had to go looking for it, but I knew the picture; the posture on the ground, resting but poised. I remembered the slightly parted lips, the suggestive nose, the tattoos and muscles. The eyes. I checked the recent ones, then I found it in a stash of old issues, from before I let the subscription lapse the last time. It's. Over. Two. Years. Old. Where... have I been? Is this where I'm supposed to be, watching, observing, whining? He's probably not so cute anymore, and who knows what else. Maybe he'll see his picture in my journal, and want me. (I actually thought that.)
I need a life.
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