I wasn’t even sure if I was going to write anything because these last two days of school have worn me out. I’m not entirely sure why but I think it has something to do with my list of 853 things I’m trying to accomplish before Caroline is home for the entire summer. But today is officially the last day of second grade. Cue the hallelujah chorus even as I sit here slightly stunned that my baby is about to be a third grader. The only thing I have left to do is figure out how to get two gallons of Blue Bell ice cream up to the school in 106 degree heat for the end of the year class party without it turning into sweet milk soup.
On an entirely different subject, I wanted to clarify that, yes, that was an artichoke in the pot of crawfish in my post on Tuesday. Our friend William had the good sense to marry a girl from Louisiana and they are big believers in putting anything you can find into the pot of crawfish; oranges, whole garlic cloves, mushrooms, artichokes and the occasional squirrel. Except not really on the squirrel part. Although I bet it’s happened. And if you disagree with me it’s only because you’ve never been to Louisiana.
The bottom line is the artichoke was delicious. I ate it until I felt like my lips were going to burn off from the spice which is always the prime indicator of MMM, MMM GOOD when it comes to Cajun food.
Anyway, I just wanted to clear up the whole artichoke thing because several of you asked about it and I hated not to tie up that loose crawfish boil end.
In other news, Sophie and I tried to record a podcast yesterday. But remember last Monday when we posted our other podcast and I said I was going to call AT&T and get to the bottom of our internet issues? Yeah. I never actually did that because I suffer from an astonishing lack of follow-through on those types of things.
So since I couldn’t connect to any sort of bootleg wireless connection here at the house, I told her I’d just podcast from my car outside of Starbucks while I connected to their internet. Except when I got there the signal was too weak. And then I tried Borders, but there was too much feedback or something. Not to mention that I underestimated how conspicuous a person might feel wearing headphones and talking into a microphone in a very public parking lot.
Ultimately, it finally dawned on me that I was going to all this effort solely to avoid having to deal with the customer service department at AT&T. And it probably isn’t too much to expect for the wireless internet we pay for every month to work, but I just dread all that “Have you reset the modem? Have you jumped up and down three times and changed the flux capacitor on your computer? Have you danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”
But I’d put it off long enough. I told Sophie I was going to head back home and face the music. Or Muzak as the case may be considering how long I might be on hold.
I called and pressed a myriad of buttons until I finally got a real person on the phone. She was very nice and tried to be very helpful as I explained that our internet goes out several times a day and I can’t connect to Skype or iChat for more than three minutes at a time before being cut off. I told her this was problematic because I need the iChat to do my job. However, I left out the part about my “job” being a podcast I do with my friend in Alabama where we talk about our hair and Friday Night Lights. I felt like I might lose some credibility.
We went through the whole reset modem/flux capacitor/change wireless channels/serial number of the modem and then she said, “Okay! I see you’re connected to the internet! Your problem should be fixed! Call us again if you continue to have problems, but it should all be better now!” The use of all those exclamation points left me skeptical, but I reluctantly hung up the phone and then I called Sophie so we could try out the iChat and see if it worked.
For forty-two seconds.
I wanted to call AT&T a bad name.
Instead, I googled the names of other internet providers in San Antonio and called AT&T back. After I re-entered all my information and pushed all the right buttons, I had another real life person on the phone. She asked me what the problem was and, bless her heart, was greeted with a tearful plea for assistance that lasted almost four and a half minutes and included the ultimate threat of breaking up with them unless they sent someone out to my house before the week is over. It ended with me whispering in a desperation, “Ma’am, I am sorry that you had to hear me like this but, please, I need someone to HELP ME. I JUST NEED HELP.”
Which probably explains why she talked to me throughout the duration of the phone call like she was a hostage negotiator. And I know ALL ABOUT hostage negotiators because I saw The Negotiator starring Kevin Spacey and Samuel L. Jackson back in 1998.
She realized the time for resetting modems and changing wireless channels was over and so she offered to send out a repairman on Thursday morning. They had a window available from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m. Really? Can we not narrow it down to perhaps, OH I DON’T KNOW, six hours instead of twelve?
Just for fun I think I might start scheduling appointments with people and telling them I’ll be there sometime between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m. and would they mind just waiting on me?
I opted for the 8 a.m. to noon window that was available for this Friday. We’ll see what happens.
But I have the names of four other internet providers on speed-dial just in case.
And I’m not afraid to use them.