So, sometime Friday night my cable modem, in concert with my drastically out-of-date analog drop from the main line caused any semblance of internet to completely vanish from within the boundaries of my house.

I, like many people before me, became overwhelmingly aware of my dependence upon being wired. This was god-awful. I was seeing babies crawl on the ceiling, and I was willing to dive into the worst toilet in Scotland for my fix. I had Julie take a picture of me just to cement the moment:

Just to further burn the memory into my soul, I finally got back to the house this afternoon with a new cable modem fresh from Time Warner, and low-and-behold, I still was unable to receive an IP address from the mother-ship after digging around and jacking it in. It felt like I had been punched in the unpleasant place with one of those large spring-loaded boxing gloves

So, as a last ditch effort (knowing a service call was going to take a week plus some vacation time from work), I went out to the main line coming into the house, disconnected it, put in a more modern splitter than the derelict piece hanging from the wall, and reconnected it. Within 5 minutes, the old Chevy-Nova-of-a-cable-line fired, and I’m back on the tubes… for now. I’m worried of what I will be willing to resort to doing should my connection fail me again.