perils with writing and whatnot
Somewhere in the back of my mind, Independence Day, July 4th marks the height of the summer and everything on the backside is downhill toward autumn. I can almost bet money that kids feel that way because school starts the middle of August these day. “Back in the day”, school didn’t begins it’s new year until after Labor Day, the first Monday of September. Of course, we also didn’t get out for summer break until the end of the first week of June either. Yet, even back then, after the 4th of July, it was called “the dog’s days of summer”. A laid-back period while everyone waited for autumn.
Last weekend our Internet and phone stopped working. Thank God for cell phones. Hubby called the cable company and got an appointment for a field representative to come out and see what was up.
When the truck arrived on Tuesday afternoon, the cable guy checked the line out in front that started high on the telephone pole. Yes, we still have those ugly poles and wires here. He, then, went to the backyard and checked the cable that was buried a few months ago.
Another cable truck pulled up behind the first one. I guess there was a lot of chatter going on because no one was getting out of the second truck.
A cable van pulled into our gravel driveway. Are we going to blow up or something? What’s with all the vehicles? This cable guy made it to our front door to ring the bell. Whoopee, a real person! I let him in.
He said, “We don’t know what’s wrong so we’re doing to redo the entire cable system here.”
And he and the other cable guys did just that. They spent three hours in the humid summer sun and under the house with all the spiders reworking all the cable and splices. When the cable guy from the van came back to our front door, he was a sweaty, dirty mess. His once pretty blonde hair was sticking to his head and the sweat was rolling down the sides of his face.
After they left, I went to the deck door in back to feed our “outside kitties”. I noticed a large orange hose going along our grass (which is in serious need of being mowed) stretching from one end of the house almost to the other end. I didn’t think much of it at the time because we do have an orange hose. I was a little curious as to why Hubby would leave it out to burn the grass though. When he came home a little after twelve midnight (second shift is weird), I asked him about it. He told me is wasn’t the hose. It was the cable.
WHAT?! I thought they had finished the job. What in the hell?
Hubby said, “They have the burying of the cable contracted out. It’ll be done.”
Okay, it’ll be done. When, I don’t know but it will be done is what I’m told. I have an impossible time accepting secondhand information — even from Hubby. When I see a cable pickup truck pull into our driveway on Thursday, my first thought is that the cable’s going to be buried. Nope, the guy just sat there in his truck looking at a clipboard. I finally opened the front door because — well, you know. He doesn’t even acknowledge that I was there, put the clipboard down, drove backward out of the driveway, and vanished around the bend of our long curvy street.
Okay, that did it. I NEED to know what the #%&@ is going on. I called the cable company. I got the animated voice system, of course. I told the stupid computer I wanted to talk to a representative. Believe it or not, it switched me over to one. The world has come to an end — really.
The rep. don’t know why the guy pulled into my driveway and was there so long. However, she did know that the cable is being buried on July 23rd.
How are you spending this next week?
If the artist does not fling himself, without reflecting, into his work, as Curtis flung himself into the yawning gulf, as the soldier flings himself into the enemy’s trenches, and if, once in this crater, he does not work like a miner on whom the walls of his gallery have fallen in; if he contemplates difficulties instead of overcoming them one by one…he is simply looking on at the suicide of his own talent.- Honore de Balzac
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