A desert of communication, interrupted by frantic moments at the oasis before it runs dry, that's where I've been ever since my internet went down last week. Is it Bell's fault? Or did my modem up and die? I won't know for sure until I get my new modem, install it, and have a full day of uninterrupted online time. But that's a few days away, unless Canada Post pulls out a miracle and delivers me a modem earlier than promised.
So what does one do in such a desert? Read a book. But the iPad looks so forlorn, alone and unused. Perhaps read old tweets. But then the laptop asks, what am I, chopped liver? Perhaps process the audio of some podcasts. That gets old and tedious fast though. Back to the book. And squint at the iPad, wondering what one can do with it when not online. If only I'd thought of downloading the paper for offline reading, assuming the offline reading works, which it doesn't always seem to. I must've changed a setting and forgotten. Check for an internet connection, just in case it came back on. But nope. OK, pull out an old-fashioned pad of paper to start thinking up loglines for the novel I'm supposed to be writing in November, during NaNoWriMo. It's so hard to think though when the internet is down. Back to rereading the book.
How did I ever function before the world wide web came to be?