Moments ago I signed out of Twitter in a fit of frustration. Not with Twitter—with our Internet connection. I couldn’t open a link to save my life. As much as I love living on a small island, it has its drawbacks.
We live in one of those rare pockets of civilization not serviced by high-speed land lines. Satellite service is the next best thing, and the dish is usually sufficient, but every once in a while…urghhh!
Just a few days ago, the adjacent neighbours and I had a discussion about how far we’d all come since the dial-up days. Remember that? The phone line was tied up all the time and it took all night to download your email. Large attachments were a nightmare and forget about streaming anything.
I don’t know how it happened, but sometime between dial-up and the dish, access to the Internet became indispensable. Like appliances and power tools, it’s become a time-saving device that makes short work of chores. Especially research—remember card catalogues? I miss those about as much as I miss dial-up.
There are talented artisans who eschew modern technologies and still manage to create masterpieces; sadly, I’m not one of them. I’m not that writer who could turn out a book on an old Underwood or even a Selectric. Without my word processor, I’d be a tree’s worst nightmare.
My apologies for whining and moaning about our Internet service. I’m just venting. I couldn’t manage with it and I wouldn’t trade our worst day of service here for better service elsewhere. So I’ll shut up now and go see if the dish is behaving yet.