I have the internets at home! Many delightful things have come of this transition from internet cafe to my desk, and I am here to tell you all about them. In list format! Hurrah!
1. You get to name it something fantastic and inside-joke funny.
Mine is ‘The Awesome House’. This is because I have a couple staying on my couch right now. They’re friends of mine, lovely people, delightful housemates. The XY half of this couple is having the time of his life because he gets to live with two beautiful women who cook, sing songs over the dinner dishes, and ask him to perform manly tasks like so: “Nate, honey, would you perform a manly task?” A friend of all of ours came by to watch House M.D. with us one evening and found Nate lounging on the fold-out bed between two lovely women in front of the movie, drinking a hot toddy and eating ice cream. This friend halted in the doorway, mouth open, shook his head, looked over at Nate, and with wonder in his voice said, “Dude. You live in an Awesome House.”
2. You get to PASSWORD it something fantastic and inside-joke funny.
Since I sincerely doubt anyone’s going to figure out where I live from this blog, I shall tell you denizens that it is ‘Murphy’s Law’. This seemed absolutely hilarious until the Comcast guy promptly fell prey to that very law and took about three hours trying to figure out how to re-install Windows’ wireless system. My apologies to the Comcast guy. Is it my fault that Murphy’s Law is simultaneously a fantastic inside joke, the general chord of my life, and a blasted curse all in one?
3. Multitasking with phones and nets.
When you’re on the phone with a client and they reference something you don’t know about, you can Google it and acquire this knowledge stealthily without their realizing that you were, until five minutes ago, utterly ignorant. Before you ask, yes, of course I did this when I didn’t have internet at home, but I usually do phone calls when I am at home so as not to disrupt library patrons or inflict the poor client with the eclectic musical tastes of the baristas at my favorite cafe. So now I am smart AND hearing-friendly. Twofer!
I loves me the instant messenger. When you are working, there is sometimes nothing better than being able to ping a buddy in your same circumstances and say ‘Dude! I’m working!’ or something equally inane, and take a little fifteen-minute break to chat about nothing at all. See: yesterday’s conversation. Wireless at home is like water-cooler chat. Without the water-cooler, sadly. But also without those little paper cups coated in wax that make everything taste like dead plastic. Comes out even, I think. Ooh! And WITH emoticons! I cannot decide if that is a plus or a minus. You vote.
5. My desk.
You get attached to your desk. Not literally, that would be weird and kind of kinky, like Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary. But you have certain things on your desk for a reason, and that reason is to make working more fun. My desk has this stuff on and around it: Uniball micro point green pens, the Chicago Manual of Style (oh, alma mater, you done so good), other style-and-writing books, a giant window, chocolate covered cherries, a houseplant of such spooling territory that it is threatening to take over the world a la Little Shop of Horrors, Pablo Picasso’s Don Quixote, a couch upon which to lounge when the desk becomes too capitalistic (SCREW the MAN!) and the white board that tells me how much money I owe various people like Sallie Mae. I don’t actually LIKE that last one, per se, but it does remind me why I’m at the desk in the first place.
6. The hourglass.
The hourglass gets its own category for locational necessity. I simply cannot say it enough: my hourglass and I should never be parted. It makes me feel that I must accomplish things NOW, that I must perform with grace and aplomb and great speed. There is a romance about an hourglass that simply does not exist in the digital clock. And when I did not have the wireless at home, every time my work involved being online, my hourglass and I were bereft of each other, because carrying the hourglass to the cafe would have been dangerous for the hourglass, although delightfully intriguing for the patrons of the cafe. Much weeping ensued every time I wanted the hourglass. There was actual condensation forming in the glass. Though I suspect this may have more to do with sudden rain showers and forgetting to close windows while gone.
7. Being able to close windows when it begins to rain without leaving work for a full half hour to walk home and back to the cafe, knowing the futility because seriously, by the time I get home everything is going to be wet anyway, but if I don’t go you know that it’ll just rain harder and get even wetter and that would be bad, but if I DO go then Murphy’s Law will make it stop raining just as I get home and I’ll feel pointless and impotent and wet. Damn you Murphy’s Law!
You do not realize what a blessing email is at home until you are without it. Suddenly everything you need to know is in your email. Where do you meet your friend, and at what time, and are you supposed to bring salad? It’s in the email. Did that client get back to you? In the email. What type of blood do you need for the transfusion without which you will die in FIVE MINUTES? In the email. And the signal from your neighbor’s is too weak. You’re going to die.
9. Bill paying.
You know how you don’t pay your bills when you’re on a public connection because you’re kind of freaked that this is just what the Evil Financial Opportunist is hoping you will do, lying in wait to steal your American Express credit card number and use it to buy Hitler mustaches for confused teenagers? And then American Express would call you up and say, are you, sir, a Nazi? And you would say NO! I am no Nazi! I am a victim of identity theft! Also I realize my first name is androgynous but I am not a sir! I am a madam! Or a miss! Mizz? I am not sure anymore! How feminist are we these days? Nooooooo!
Now I can pay my bills on my happy secure internet connection, and no Nazi correlations will ensue. Whew. That was a close one. I was questioning my feministity.
10. Cost Efficiency
The reason I didn’t have internet was because I figured it would be cheaper to not have internet. This was stupid of me. Considering that you need to buy at least a two-dollar cup of tea to stay at an internet cafe, and the library’s connection is often too slow, it turns out to be about half the cost to actually order the internet. Even including the cost of a router and install and modem. If the rogue had been better at math than English, she would have figured this out long ago. It is sometimes sad to be without basic math skills. Mostly, though, it is the path of the righteous.
11. Fridge proximity.
At a cafe, if you’re in a groove and your stomach starts to growl, you have two options. Throw off the groove, pack up, walk home for lunch, and walk back. Or order a sandwich and spend more money. If you’re at home and your stomach starts to growl, you can reach into the Hunger Drawer and pull out a variety of tasty snacks, most of them sporting ingredients not found in nature, all of which can be eaten one-handed while continuing to groove away. You don’t throw off the Rogue’s groove, baby. It just ain’t right.
12. The best blogging takes place after 11:00 at night.
When all the internet cafes in Boulder are closed. The rogue is blogging after midnight, people. Someone write her a country-western song about it.
RhodesTer points out that I can also hang out in my underwear. I am here to state that this had totally not occurred to me. I prefer to think that this is not due to my conservatism, but rather because it’s pretty unremarkable for me to be seen hanging out sans the pants.
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