Why is it when my husband goes out of town, which is very rarely, things go badly? This hasn’t been my best week. It has rained most of the week which means the kids haven’t gotten to play outside, and I need them to play outside. My sister was going to come and visit but she got sick.
The cable was disconnected on Tuesday. No, we weren’t paying our bill –we didn’t have one. We had free cable for the last five months—we thought it came with the apartment (hey, for the rent we pay, a maid should come with our apartment).
The cable/digital guy was so thoughtful. He left a little note on my doorknob that said something like–they messed up and gave us cable that we didn’t ask for and they were sorry for the inconvenience. Well, I figured I would call them back and say, “Hey, no problem you just hook it back up and we’ll forgive you for that mistake.” They said they would if we paid an exorbitant amount every month. I guess they weren’t really sorry about the inconvenience.
I figured hey, we don’t need cable, the kids like PBS, and I can go without “The Learning Channel” if I need to. It’s not like I had good TV in Spain! I turned on the TV and started to flip through the channels. There were some blue channels and then blue, blue and then blue—nothing but blue on every channel. No, that’s not true; I did find an extremely fuzzy grey channel playing Spanish soap operas. We understood it since we speak Spanish, but the kids were not impressed. I unplugged the cable and tried again. Nothing. I tried to look like I knew what I was doing in front of my kids so they wouldn’t say “I want daddy to come home, he’ll know how to fix it, he knows how to do everything.” I suggested we do something else.
I went into my room and found a book to read. I came back out and called the cable man. I told him that although we didn’t have enough money to pay for cable, I wanted him to send someone to hook it up and in return I would send my firstborn to him to learn how to turn off poor people’s cable and place “We’re Sorry” notes on their doors when he turned 16. The next day the cable man hooked us up and even gave us a fancy little black box. I went back to reading—only this time it was the guide book to the fancy little black box.
After reading the book intently and absorbing nothing, I pushed the red button to turn on the TV. I was relieved to see that the blue was gone—and in its place was grey. I thought, I got a fancy box to change the color on the TV? I called the help line. The lady was very happy I called, and said she knew what was wrong. I was relieved. She she said I needed to push a few buttons so that the box could talk to the TV and they could get to know each other better or something like that. So after pushing a series of numbers and buttons and stomping my feet three times the TV finally worked. She went on to say something about yellow lights and whistles and messages, and something else that was probably important. I wasn’t listening to her though, for my house was alive with the sound of cable.