Our new modem arrived this morning, so Tribble Towers is fully powered and ready to go as far as the internet is concerned. However, during the last forty-eight hours, we’ve had to stumble blindly through that unknown territory which is:
I felt as though I’d been thrown into the Dark Ages – or I would have done if we hadn’t had Avengers and Batman to watch. I actually had to resort to being a housewife and eating food and all these other things that I don’t know how to do!
I cross-stitched. I wrote out yesterday’s ranty blog about being a hermit and having no internet access. I kept trying to check my email.
In the end I was so antsy and frustrated about not being able to contact the outside world that I went upstairs and finished the mock-up of my Jo Grant dress. It is a complete and utter hatchet job, but I learn from my sewing mistakes (and my mother’s experience) and I know exactly what I did wrong and where. Thankfully I have enough blouse fabric left to start again (I think) and the denim cost a pittance and I’ve favourited the seller.
You see? I couldn’t even get the fabric and other materials that I needed yesterday because I’m rubbish at town (and the sewing shop would doubtless not have what I need anyway because they’re actually a bit rubbish if you want more than cross-stitch threads) and I couldn’t get online. Such is the life of a crippled hermit.
So here I am, blogging about the last couple of fail days in the hopes of making light of a pretty miserable situation. Being unable to communicate with anyone other than D and feeling trapped in the house really did bring home to me that I need to kick myself hard and get over this irrational fear of wandering about the neighbourhood. I used to walk everywhere and I’m sure people miss the friendly, smiley blonde who has a nice word for everyone. I know that one of the local postmen does because every time he sees D he asks after me.
Last night I was so desperate for outside contact that I began to text Creepy Ex-Fling to explain what he’d done wrong after I announced my new marital status on Facebook. D had to stop me, with a gentle reminder that Mister Skeezoid hasn’t got manners enough to remember where I’m living or even recall D’s name. Also, he would start trying to booty-call me again in the hopes that I was on the brink of divorce and back in a part of England where he could visit and I just might say yes if he smarmed at me enough.
No. Not happening. Ever. I would sooner read Fifty Shades Of Twishite Slash than attempt to continue a friendship with that guy. Ugh.
At least I have no seizures to report and I am slowly working out what the recurring dream I mentioned is about (I’ve noticed that there is always a sort of protective barrier around me no matter how dire the housing situation in the dream is, and I just know it’s D protecting me from the past ever repeating itself). That’s the good news.
The bad news is that I am having a minor but painful medical procedure performed tomorrow, and will therefore be flying on Diazepam for the rest of the day. I don’t know if I should stay off the internet or give you all a chance to laugh at a stoned Missus Tribble! I talk enough nonsense as it is, after all…
Glad to be back though – I missed you all!