Essay: Wired!

My first reaction was “Grrr.” GWI, our internet service provider, was notifiying my husband, Paul, and me that they were disconnecting all DSL customers as of March 31.

I don’t like change. I especially dislike tech change.

I don’t like disruption is my little world.

Deep breath. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been thinking about an upgrade. Our service seemed slow and once a week our router would go off and we’d have to reset it. Since the apparatus was elderly, I was never sure whether it was a problem on our end or GWI’s. Still.

Of course, I did not pursue a change in service because I dreaded the idea of change.

It was good that I was being propelled—forced—into a new era, I told myself.

But, the major reason for my aversion to change is that I am a master catastrophizer. Suppose we could not get another supplier?

I always worry when we have to have anything installed in our Victorian house. It was not built for the 21st century. Appliances, for example, have to be small because our doorways are narrow. When we went to buy a new dryer a year or so ago, there was only one that fit the bill.

Maybe there was something in this old house that precluded a high-speed fiber connection. Is that why we had DSL, a service delivered over the phone lines? I thought about how. even in our new addition, if we try to run the vacuum while the space heater is on, the circuit shorts.

Deep breath.

I could see I had no idea what a new service involved. So I did some research. First, I determined that we had DSL because GWI did not offer fiber in our area, not because the house was built in the 1870s. Then I read up on fiber installation, which seemed to be akin to a cable TV setup, which we had for years.

There would be no problem drilling a small hole in the 19th century clapboards.

Of course, when I woke up that night at 2 a.m., devilish thoughts hounded me. Worst case scenario: No Wi-Fi! We could live without it. But did I want to? Internet access isn’t just about surfing the web anymore. We stream everything we watch, for one thing. I do daily language lessons on Duolingo, and use the Calm app as a sleep and meditation aid. So much daily business has to be conducted online—submitting forms, checking account balances, etc. I listen to music through a smart speaker, download photos …

I realize I could do all this on my phone, and sometimes do. It would be possible for some people to exist with just their data plan. But I much prefer to use my iPad with attached keyboard. It has a decent-sized screen and I don’t have to hunt and peck. Plus, Paul has no data plan on his phone and uses his MacBook for everything.

We would not enjoy watching programs together on my phone.

No. We needed Wi-Fi.

The next day, though, I started thinking about how reliant we have become on that connection. I don’t spend a lot of time with my phone, and only indulge in scrolling once in a while. I read physical books and magazines and write in a journal. I like to do jigsaw puzzles and crosswords and spend a lot of time gardening when the weather is good. It’s not like I can’t occupy myself away from my screens. Yet …

I find this reliance both annoying and disturbing, but perhaps not enough to do anything about it.

Finally, installation day arrived. I had a last-minute panic attack when a prep email mentioned the need for an outlet next to the electrical box. Our cellar has exactly one outlet (aside from those for the washer and dryer) and it is some distance from the box. I had to lecture myself that we couldn’t possibly be the only old house in Augusta without an appropriate outlet. I handed the problem over to the universe.

And, voila, the installation went smoothly. I was not convinced it was really going to happen until the technician brought the cable down from the utility line. I figured, at that point, there was no going back. There wasn’t. He never even went near the cellar.

Did I learn a lesson about worrying from all this? Oh, probably not.

I think I did strengthen my resolve to hand off problems to the universe. At 10 that night, I woke up and realized the electricity was off. My analog clock had stopped at 9:30. A quick check of the Central Maine Power app showed that more than 200 people in Augusta were in the dark and that service should be restored by 11:45.

If so, our refrigerated food would be safe, and that was my main concern. I told the universe it was in her hands, closed my eyes, and breathed. Losing electricity was worse than going without Wi-Fi, I decided, as I drew the covers closer. Especially in January.

The furnace went on with a roar at 11:30. Downstairs, the refrigerator purred and the brand-new router blinked.

All was right in my little world. 

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 I welcome email at lizzie621@icloud.com