There I sat last night, watching The Amazing Race and Celebrity Apprentice, secure in my knowledge that my latest masterpiece had been automatically scheduled to post at 6:38 p.m. So secure, in fact, that I contemplated watching The Muffin Tops episode of Seinfeld at 10:30. Lucky for my faithful readers, nature called. On my way out of my NASCAR bathroom, I stepped next door to my basement office to check on all things bloggish.
Imagine my surprise when I saw that my Saturday post was showing!
Just when I tried the Edit Post feature to check on this Blogger faux pas, my internet disconnected. I know that, because the hateful yellow triangle showed up on my bottom toolbar. Or whatever the technical name is for that thing. Perhaps you do not understand the enormity of this calamity. It was 10:30 p.m. Did I know where my children were? Indeed. Because I'm that parent. The one all up in my children's business. The one who uses them to do my legwork. The Pony was snoozing away on his SpongeBob pillow, and Genius was just beginning his 45-minute shower. The big kid, Hick, had retired for the evening as well.
That meant I had to climb the stairs and reconnect for myself!!!
That's because in our neck of Backroads, we can't get cable. We can't get HughesNet. We can't use an AT & T connect card. We must use Sprint. On a little gadget hooked up to my laptop in the front picture window facing west. I'm surprised we don't need a set of rabbit ears wrapped in tinfoil. Genius has us all set up on some kind of hub dealybobber with wireless, so all our internet runs off the upstairs laptop connection. Well, except when the boys use their truly unlimited Sprint phone data plan, which is separate from the dealybobber plan.
So...I hiked up Mount Killamykneeso and connected. But I noticed an unappealing odor of chicken and broccoli left over from supper, so I had to light an aromatic candle on the stove top and then notify Genius in the shower not to let his flowing tresses dangle over it when taking his allergy medicine. Then I rinsed a few leftover dishes and stacked them beside the sink, because this dishwasher doesn't run at 10:30 at night.
After a successful descent back to my base camp, I deduced that Blogger had done me wrong. My masterpiece was cooling its heels in scheduled limbo, even though it advertised the posting time of 6:38 p.m. I put the kibosh on that forthwith. Serves me right for finishing it early in the late afternoon, but putting off posting in case I had a scathingly brilliant idea to add before my TV shows started.
Dang. This blogging is getting to be too much like work.