Me (desperate, on the phone): Vivian, I don't know what to do with myself! I have no internet!
Vivian: Well, you could take a bath.
Me: I don't have a bathtub.
Vivian: ...you could make yourself some toast!
Me (whiny): I don't have a toaster.
Vivian: Well, then, you could use your iron to grill yourself some toast!
Me (downright miserable): I don't have an iron!
Vivian (laughing exasperatedly): OK then, just call up some friends and go play games.
Me: I don't have any friends!
I know that's pathetic. But as a single, childless, friendless, young woman living on my own in a new town in an 18x14 ft room with no TV, bathtub, toaster, or iron (in a mansion full of very strange people, no less), the internet is my connection to friends, family, entertainment, and the world. Keep that in mind as you read this, and try not to think too poorly of me for being addicted to the internet.
The first week was frustrating. My "borrowed" internet connection had on occasion been unavailable before, so I kept expecting it to come back at any time. As a result, I constantly forgot I might not have internet. I would think "I need to email so and so", or, "I'll check the weather to know what to wear", or, "oh yeah, I need to pay my Wells Fargo bill". I'd open my computer, click on my browser...and after a few seconds of staring at my blank computer screen I would remember. As the days passed and I continued to see that blank screen, I got a sinking feeling the days of free internet were over.
Then Saturday arrived. I had no plans. Normally, no plans means a fantastic day of watching hulu, chatting with friends and family, or finding new music online. But suddenly, having no plans meant nothing. to. do. I decided to make the most of it and be as productive as possible- I went running, took a shower, cleaned my miniscule apartment, did laundry, went grocery shopping...all before noon. Then I had to start getting creative. I clipped my toenails, shaved my legs, organized my music and photo collection on my computer, and re-cleaned my apartment. I tried to finish War and Peace, but that was short-lived. To say the least, it was a slow weekend.
Week two with no internet found me spending my evenings huddled in my dark and cold car in the parking spot closest to the Family History Center at the church, mooching their unprotected wireless and hoping my computer battery would last long enough for me to finish writing an email to my RS counselors. One night I was lucky and I was able to sneak away from FHE to hide in a classroom and watch The Office without anyone noticing I was gone.
Then came a three-day weekend. Friday morning I started off strong by going on a 4-hour hike with nothing but my iPod and an audiobook. But when I returned and I realized I still had nothing to do, I gave up trying to come up with (and make myself do) productive things. Instead, I picked up a 785 page book, thinking it would keep me busy for awhile. I finished it 12 hours later. Saturday, I rented 3 movies and bought a fish to keep me company.
In the meantime, I was canvassing my neighbors to see if anyone would split their internet bill with me and allow me access to their internet. It would take me awhile to get up my nerve to ask, then they either wouldn't be home or they wouldn't have wireless, so the process took awhile. Finally, a neighbor said the beautiful words "I think Robert has wireless, and I'm sure he would let you use it!"
How exciting is that! Robert is the most normal neighbor I have, I talk to him fairly frequently, and he's really friendly and helpful. Sure enough, after I work up the nerve to go talk to him and finally catch him at home, Robert agrees to let me pay him $5 a month to share his wireless. But he's busy at the moment, so I tell him I can just come back later to get the password. After all, what's another day? I walk with a lighter step and a smile back to my room. This is going to work out perfectly, I think to myself. I'm sure glad I figured this out and won't have to pay an arm and a leg for internet!
The next day I knock on his door, excited that in moments I would once again be connected to the world. I knocked confidently on his door, and smiled expectantly when he opened it. “Oh, you know what,” he says, “I’ve changed my mind. Sorry!” I was kind of dumbfounded. He was my last hope for cheap internet. He had told me this would work. I had expected to be able to go home that evening and email my Bishop, check Facebook, read our blogs, shop for a new cell phone, and do whatever the heck else I wanted.
Instead, I walked slowly back to my apartment and stood in my kitchen/living room staring blankly around. What now? I had pretty much exhausted my resources. There were no other neighbors to ask for internet. There were no more books left unread in my apartment…well, except for War and Peace. It was Sunday, so I couldn’t rent a movie. I had already tried (and failed) to train my new fish. I was about to just go to bed (it was 7:00pm) when I saw a corner of the Woodpile book sticking out from under a stack of papers.
…and suddenly, everything was ok again. I picked it up happily, thinking “Why didn’t I think of this before?!” and started reading contentedly. I felt connected to you guys. I laughed out loud a lot. I forgot about my lack of internet. I read until it was a reasonable time to go to bed, but I didn’t want to stop. However, I knew that I would have to make this little gem of a book last until I got internet installed, so I put it away and drifted off to a happy sleep.
So by week three, I had finally reached a state of Zen…mostly by reading out of the blog book everyday. I accepted that I was just going to have to pay full price for my own internet, and I set up an appointment to get it installed. "Oh, it won't be for another week? That’s fine." I don’t remember very much about that last week, except that I didn’t really care about internet anymore. I just wanted to get home to read more stories about Korean mattresses and styrofoam peanuts and shark underwear.
And that is the story of how I survived three weeks without internet.
