Time For Self-Pity

But only the funny kind. I got the broadband installers in the Snakepit Inc. yesterday. They were paralyzed by the snakes and Henrietta decided to play with them, too, which didn't go down too well. All that dominance stuff.

In any case, the installers decided that it was too dark and too rainy to start work and that they had head colds. They promised to come back today, early in the morning.

Then they left and then my telephone was cut off because I had transferred the telephone service to the broadband people. Right.

This morning one installer came back but something was wrong and so a truck had to be called in to fix the connections outside the house. Except the truck didn't come because, you know, the rain. And the head colds, probably. I couldn't connect to the Internet at all, and finally did a snake goddess act. This got me another nice installer who climbed up the pole and all but it turns out that I still need the truck which is coming tomorrow, perhaps. But at least this installer was able to jiggle the system so that if I don't type too hard I can stay connected! At least for five minutes in a row.

Why do I always expect these things to work as promised? They never do, and I have penned down two weeks for the broadband fight now.

This is an apology why I haven't posted my first gender gap article yet, and an article it is and full of boring academic verbiage. I can't seem to be able to write about my specialty without going all jargony. But what is, is. The post should be up by tomorrow morning.