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Danaë receiving Jupiter in a shower of sulphuric acid
At seven o'clock this morning, a noise of hammering and construction began outside our bedroom window. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel and I stopped sleeping and remained that way for the rest of this story.
At eight-twenty, the property manager called to say that electricians were coming to do some minor work and the power would go out in an hour, for about an hour, and not to worry. The hammering and other noises continued.
At about eight-thirty the power went out. It stayed that way until approximately eleven forty-five. As I was checking the appliances throughout the apartment, I realized that although the router was broadcasting the correct wireless network, we had no connection to the actual internet. I left a note for Rob to contact Verizon if it did not come back of its own accord. "The electricians may have disrupted something," I wrote.
At eleven fifty-five, my cousins called for me to come downstairs (we had a lunch engagement) and the electricians, who were still on the scene, asked me on my way out if the power had come back all right. Yes, I said, except for the internet. Could they think of anything they had done which might have accidentally interfered with it? Which is how I found out that we did not have internet because the electricians had cut the Verizon cable.
Apparently it had looked like it did not belong to any of the cable boxes and was in the way. Rob said in some amazement, "I thought the first rule of being an electrician was, 'Do not cut any wires that are not yours!'" Then he gallantly spent some time on the phone with Verizon customer service while I had lunch withgaudior and rushthatspeaks and the latter's parents, at the end of which we had a ticket for repair on a completely unclear timeline. One of the electricians came upstairs with a voltmeter and went away again.
At four-fifteen this afternoon, I called Verizon customer service back and determined that no one from tech support would be coming out today. They are slated to arrive no earlier than eight o'clock tomorrow and no later than two in the afternoon. Till that nebulous date, at home, no internet.
At five-thirty, I made a sandwich. The cats who had been somewhat traumatized by the arrival of the electricians cautiously began to converge on the kitchen and attempt to persuade me that roast beef was the ideal recovery food for traumatized cats.
At five fifty-five, the landlord's father and two handymen showed up to replace the knob on the apartment's front door, which had not been working as such. (It spun if you tried to turn it and had no perceptible effect on the door.) The landlord's father talked to me about Greek history and showed me pictures of his family and maps of his home town in the southwestern Peloponnese, where he has a yard full of pear trees, pomegranates, and figs. They replaced the entire lock, which was great, and left me with one key, which meant Rob had no way of letting himself in or out unless I got some copies made stat. Autolycus crept out from the carrier where he had been re-hiding to give me a plaintive look. Hestia stayed under the bed and probably fumed.
At seven-twenty this evening, the next-door neighbors who usually blast objectionable talk radio started blasting Ace of Base's "Beautiful Life," which I had not heard since my senior year of high school at the latest. I was confused.
At seven-thirty, I actually left the house and hightailed it to Tags, where the very courteous, silvery clerk who copied the new key five minutes before they closed noted that I was humming "Maggie Pickens," agreed it was an earworm, and suggested as alternatives "Whisky in the Jar" and "Brennan on the Moor." My brain being what it is, I left humming Dylan's "Ramblin' Gamblin' Willie," which differs from the latter only in the lyrics.
Just now, I bought an herbal chai latte from Porter Square Books, logged on to their wifi, and wrote this.
How was your day, Mrs. Lincoln?
derspatchel and I stopped sleeping and remained that way for the rest of this story.At eight-twenty, the property manager called to say that electricians were coming to do some minor work and the power would go out in an hour, for about an hour, and not to worry. The hammering and other noises continued.
At about eight-thirty the power went out. It stayed that way until approximately eleven forty-five. As I was checking the appliances throughout the apartment, I realized that although the router was broadcasting the correct wireless network, we had no connection to the actual internet. I left a note for Rob to contact Verizon if it did not come back of its own accord. "The electricians may have disrupted something," I wrote.
At eleven fifty-five, my cousins called for me to come downstairs (we had a lunch engagement) and the electricians, who were still on the scene, asked me on my way out if the power had come back all right. Yes, I said, except for the internet. Could they think of anything they had done which might have accidentally interfered with it? Which is how I found out that we did not have internet because the electricians had cut the Verizon cable.
Apparently it had looked like it did not belong to any of the cable boxes and was in the way. Rob said in some amazement, "I thought the first rule of being an electrician was, 'Do not cut any wires that are not yours!'" Then he gallantly spent some time on the phone with Verizon customer service while I had lunch with
gaudior and rushthatspeaks and the latter's parents, at the end of which we had a ticket for repair on a completely unclear timeline. One of the electricians came upstairs with a voltmeter and went away again.At four-fifteen this afternoon, I called Verizon customer service back and determined that no one from tech support would be coming out today. They are slated to arrive no earlier than eight o'clock tomorrow and no later than two in the afternoon. Till that nebulous date, at home, no internet.
At five-thirty, I made a sandwich. The cats who had been somewhat traumatized by the arrival of the electricians cautiously began to converge on the kitchen and attempt to persuade me that roast beef was the ideal recovery food for traumatized cats.
At five fifty-five, the landlord's father and two handymen showed up to replace the knob on the apartment's front door, which had not been working as such. (It spun if you tried to turn it and had no perceptible effect on the door.) The landlord's father talked to me about Greek history and showed me pictures of his family and maps of his home town in the southwestern Peloponnese, where he has a yard full of pear trees, pomegranates, and figs. They replaced the entire lock, which was great, and left me with one key, which meant Rob had no way of letting himself in or out unless I got some copies made stat. Autolycus crept out from the carrier where he had been re-hiding to give me a plaintive look. Hestia stayed under the bed and probably fumed.
At seven-twenty this evening, the next-door neighbors who usually blast objectionable talk radio started blasting Ace of Base's "Beautiful Life," which I had not heard since my senior year of high school at the latest. I was confused.
At seven-thirty, I actually left the house and hightailed it to Tags, where the very courteous, silvery clerk who copied the new key five minutes before they closed noted that I was humming "Maggie Pickens," agreed it was an earworm, and suggested as alternatives "Whisky in the Jar" and "Brennan on the Moor." My brain being what it is, I left humming Dylan's "Ramblin' Gamblin' Willie," which differs from the latter only in the lyrics.
Just now, I bought an herbal chai latte from Porter Square Books, logged on to their wifi, and wrote this.
How was your day, Mrs. Lincoln?
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That's a great header! ^_^
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I can't take any credit for it—it's a line from the song! But it seemed apropos.
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Sorry: the current music. I take most of my subject headers from the music I'm listening to, unless I'm quoting a book or a movie mentioned in the post. The habit evolved over the years, but I like it.
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Heh! :p :D
~ ~ ~
I'm sorry your internet is out, that sucks. :(
Hope it gets fixed soon-ish!
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Thank you! It did get fixed within the promised twenty-four hours, though not before our entire street had a power outage, which just felt unsurprising somehow.
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Happy to confirm this for you (and your traumatised cats, who are probably still in need). Baz & Mac say yes, roast beef is just the ticket.
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We shall take this new data very seriously.
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I'm glad you got a break from talk radio, at least.
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It got . . . impressive.
And it's great that your landlord's father replaced the doorknob and has a Mediterranean garden in his past to reminisce about, but surely when the rental is occupied by two tenants you supply them both with keys.
I see how it happened—the new lock only came with two keys and a landlord always needs access to their properties—but since
I'm glad you got a break from talk radio, at least.
They were singing along, too. I have no explanation.
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Me too. Yet we once had electricians who cut the co-ax cable connecting the television to its aerial, twice in two days.
My day has been busy, but not as - as enthusiastically mixed as yours.
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I take my hat off and I'm so sorry.
My day has been busy, but not as - as enthusiastically mixed as yours.
It ended with a storm-driven blackout of our entire block!