What do you mean, no WiFi? Are you fucking kidding me? Gotta go to Starbucks until the house sells?
One of the unexpected annoyances of separation and divorce is internet access. Yeah, who knew? Along with his move outta the house a few weeks ago, U-Verse followed suit. Great. At first, no big deal, or so I thought. I’m at my favorite Starbucks several mornings a week anyway, how inconvenient can no WiFi be?
Please, take the leather sectional, Steve Jobs’ biography, Waterford crystal vase…But goddammit, couldn’t keep the WiFi one extra month? Just as I wish to write here, as much as my crappy four-year-old cracked iPhone still mangages to ignite most days, NOT my first choice in which to express myself in text form. Yes, hot spot available for purchase, I get that. It’s the principal of this experience: like always, decisions made by HIM about HIM, for HIM.
I’m pissed. More than I thought I would. Pissed at him for not having the thoughtfulness to keep it in the house until sold….mostly though, pissed at myself for not recognizing the importance of something like WiFi. Like a lot of us, my biz depends on internet use. Shouda, coulda, woulda….Note to self: THINK before…well, just THINK. Let’s start there. Thirty more days without WiFi at my personal residence. Ok, done feeling sorry for myself. But I’m still pissed. Plus side? More topics open for writing and discussion. Lucky you, guys. You may now go back to your status updates on FB. Vent as you wish….