You Picked A Fine Time To Leave Me Vodacon

As the sun sank over Signal Hill, I was all set to enjoy a delightful evening alone. I do enjoy my time alone – I get so little of it. Today was another horrible day at work. Not the whole day – moving up to the third floor and sitting with fun people helps to make up for the terrible monster report that I am currently testing. For my sins. What did I DO in my past life?
So, after a terrible day of testing The Report, I had to come home so that the rental agent could conduct a show day in my presence. I didn’t really feel like letting Joe Public loose unsupervised in my flat, after the latest faith-in-human-nature-shaking incident experienced on Saturday, courtesy of the char. Thus no exercise or socialising for me. After half hour an hour of (beadily eyed) watching people wander through my sanctum, I was satisfied that they had all departed sans any of my most treasured personal belongings. Alone at last, I decided that I would not allow the evening to be a complete loss and I cooked myself a most delicious meal of chicken breasts with my very own secret spice mixture. (Everything in the spice drawer gets hurled bravely at the chicken, including lots of chilli. It’s secret cos who knows what’s in my spice drawer...) And there was beetroot. And butternut. And avocado. So delicious. And healthy. And almost low fat to boot. (I have recently had a slight run in with the scale. The scale won.) And a glass of red wine in one of my pretty, pretty, pretty pink cut glass wine glasses. (Thanks Vaughny – great bday pressie – I still use them all the time.)

Anyway there I was, all set to enjoy a delightful evening alone. Just me and the internet. A little blogging. Some online laptop shopping. And a nice Google Talk conversation with my boyfriend, who has gone to England for 3 weeks for a conference, some lectures and some climbing.

Ah, but the best laid plans of mice and men…

A thousand fleas upon the poxy carcass of whichever useless employee of my 3G service provider caused the latest connection “glitch.” And when I say service provider, I mean “service” and “provider”. You know – with the big quote marks you make with your fingers when describing some reeeeeeally sarcastically.
As if it wasn’t bad enough to be internetless while I was at work today, I am now alone in my flat, cut off from the internet (the world!!!!!), listening to sad music and staring at the sms from my boyfriend, to which I cannot reply. He smses me from the cellular service website, and I cannot reply by sms because he has not set up international roaming. I kind of count on my internet to keep in contact. For god’s sake – we live in the 21st century! The Age of Technology, except in South Africa, where we are subjected to the Tyranny of the Monopoly.
No. Three does not count. Four does not count! It is still a monopoly. If there is no viable competition it is a de facto monopoly. When all of the “service providers” are as bad as one another, it’s useless to move between them.
(She reins herself in, with great difficulty, from another potentially lengthy digression.)

And so I cannot even post this blog. I am typing into Notepad and will have to post this tomorrow morning, should the vagaries of the Gods of Technology (in whom I have more faith than my "service provider") allow me to connect.

As if that is not enough, I am enjoying a KENNY RODGERS SONG!!!!!!! What does that make me? Old? Sad? Refined? Wise and mature?
I am singing along. Belting out the chorus. The curtains are drawn, I may even dance. I think that now is a fine time to pour myself another glass of wine, Lucille…..
Oh, I’ve had some bad times. Lived through some sad times. La la la la la la la…..