Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Problem With Politeness

So, we're 1 hour in to My Plan for the day (namely, writing with no internet, fueled by coffee, grapes, and the last of the Cadbury Mini Eggs from the bag Husband and I bought last night and is almost empty).

After Reader j.m. gave me a much-needed comment kick in the butt, I signed off line and wrote. I finished chapter two (officially this time). I was congratulating myself.

And then. Maine Neighbor knocked on my door. Maine Neighbor is from Maine, where he lived on an island for many years. Adjusting to landlocked life in Vermont has not been easy for him. Maine Neighbor kindly inquired about HIS internet.

As we spoke, it began to dawn on me that HIS internet was in fact MY internet, Internet which I PAY FOR every month with money that does not go towards cable (of which we have NONE), or new dresses (of which I have none) or heat (which explains why I'm writing this while huddled beside an electric heater and wearing a tank top, shirt, giant sweatshirt, and down vest).

Maine Neighbor asked me to turn MY internet back on so that he could finish making an Ebay purchase--you know, with the money he is not currently using to pay for an internet connection.

Of course, I obliged. I am polite--I can't help it. It's something my character Maggie and I have in common. So the caffeine is kicking in, the internet is back on, and I'm a little worked up.

That is all.

2 comments:

  1. Hmmm. Perhaps, a copy of his half of the bill might be a nice thing to present him with. At least, that's what I would do in my mind. In reality, I would sit fuming and thinking of terrible things to send through my router to internet hijackers.

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  2. Great idea! Though, like you said, I probably won't go through with it. I AM going to turn the internet back OFF now, and I am also going to change our password tonight. (For those wondering, we--perhaps naively--gave him our password so that he could access internet when he first moved in...months ago.)

    I should not have said that. Any bets on how long it will take between my dad reading this and him calling me to tell me how stupid that was? I will let you know.

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