I Sing the Body Electric, or, Happy-Happy Joy-Joy …

Cold, cold, cold night. Internet (and sanity) have been restored. Very nice man came yesterday afternoon in a white AT & T van. He looked at the line leading from our (Jurassic) Speedstream 5360 modem box. This line is an amazing thing– it snakes down our hallway and around corners and into our bedroom where it is plugged securely into a jack just behind our headboard.

Man says, “Hmmm, do you have a filter?”

Yes, I say, pointing out a box which is attached to ANOTHER line leading from jack behind our headboard to somewhere beneath piles of discarded cell phones/ junk mailers/ old Sports Illustrated magazines under hubby’s desk.

“Where does this line lead to?” man asks, indicating line disappearing under hubby’s desk.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I said. Which was the absolute truth.

“Husband use it for anything?” he asks.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure he does,” I say. “Maybe his laptop?”

“Well,” man says, “You already have a line to the laptop, THIS one,” and he indicates a very prominent white cord which does in fact also connect waaaay back down the length of our hallway and back to little black modem box on my desk.


“So,” man says. “THIS line, which goes nowhere, has a filter, but the one to YOUR computer doesn’t have one. So, what if I take off the filter from THIS line, like so–!” And voila, he really does pull off the tiny little thing he calls a filter. “And what if I put it on YOUR line,” he says, and voila! It’s all done quicker than I can blink an eye.

“And,” man says, “let’s try logging on from your computer again.”

So we wend our way down the hallway back to my tiny little office, and give two taps on the keyboard, and wait a few seconds, and suddenly all lights on Speedstream are lighting up like crazy, it’s like Christmas or the Fourth of July. I stand there with my mouth open and I simply cannot believe it.

“Well,” man says. “I guess that fixed your problem.”

Ahhh, I stand there dumbly. Because I simply can’t believe that — this– little thing– which hubby had on a line leading under his desk to God-knows-what hidden pile of treasure– was actually the Rosetta Stone to all our internet anguish of the last few days.

But, nice man went off with a wave, and I rushed to the telephone, simply dying to impart to hubby the momentous events of the afternoon, and after all was said and done I didn’t miss any e-mail, not even from any member of my family (who e-mail me about once every six months, I kid you not), and now I’m getting ready to read a paper by student Jonathan Y. on “Othello”, which I decided to end the semester with, under the misguided notion that class would end on an “up” note, and I’m reading Jonathan’s words and my eyes are slowly closing, cloooosing:

“Iago is a uniqe and well known character in the play. His character makes him the bad guy of the play. The dialogue he presents is of evil gesture. In reference to his hatred of Othello, he is simply filled with negative moods. In addition, he uses Roderigo for his own purposes without concern for what might become of him…”



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