Restricted

A few weeks ago, I reported on a link about high teen media use, and wondered (only for about two seconds) how much I was using the internet a day. What if I logged it? Which I didn’t, of course, because who has the time? Facebook, blogs, Twitter, CrimeSpace—those are not going to update themselves.

And then last week, I found myself without internet (insert screechy horror violins). Just like that—and it’ll probably be another week or two before I have complete access again (I’m surfing on a neighborhood wireless unsecured network right now, feeling only slightly guilty as the connection is most lousy). I’ll save you the frustrating story of bad bandwidth and the lovely but scripted customer service from India.

So I’m restricted on internet use, hence the quietness on the blog. On the upside, I got lots done. I faxed a contract for a new regular paying gig (to support the peanut M&M habit), completed my first assignment, cleaned the house, edited my latest manuscript, and fixed just about all that was on the house to-do list. I know, you’re impressed. I was amazed at my productivity, almost enough so that I thought of restricting my internet access permanently.

However.

I miss my online friends. Facebook is my watercooler, blog news my line to the world. Without internet access, I feel like Milton from Office Space: watching everyone in the lunchroom eat cake without getting a piece, and stuck in a makeshift basement office, wondering who the hell stole my stapler.

So I’ll be looking forward to having my internet access back. Until then, save me a piece of cake, please?