Nightmare To End All Nightmares

Jaimi and I moved into our new place in Brooklyn yesterday. So far so good - except for the intense, incredibly realistic, never-ending nightmare part of it.

You see, I’ve got very limited internet access these days. It won’t be turned on until Saturday. And the wireless networks in the building are all secure, so no poaching.

Just trying to get by. Taking things day by day, you know?

Sometimes, I think to myself, things aren’t so bad. I could be a lot worse off. I mean, my iPhone works. So I can view sports scores and check my Gmail, even if it is over AT&T’s less than high-speed EDGE network.

But then I remind myself of how my regular internet doesn’t work. And how I have to go to Starbucks to send email, or write a blog post, or bid on some used furniture on eBay – for my nearly empty, new apartment.

And I feel sorry for myself. So sorry.

Poor, poor Mill. As isolated as a wildflower in the desert – in a cyberspace kind of way.

I wonder what’s being posted at Boing Boing right now. What did Perez Hilton have to say today?

What’s the latest he-said, she-said to rock the Obama-Clinton battle? Only the internet can tell me.

I’m sure you can see how difficult my life is right now.

But as I said before, things could be worse. I could be in the hospital (get well soon Mario!). I could be faced with foreclosure on my home, if I owned one. I could be locked out of my new apartment. My girlfriend could have left me - although her name’s on the lease so I’m not sure where she’d go.

It’s time to put things in perspective. After all, it’s not like I’m on trial for a crime I didn’t commit, and it’s not as if my internet doesn’t work.

Oh shit. My internet DOESN’T work. That’s why I’m sitting in this cold, barren Starbucks.

It’s so creepy in here. The place just reeks of extra-bold, fresh coffee, and delicious muffins. There are yuppies everywhere. I think I just paid 4 dollars for a hot chocolate.

Also, I swear I just saw the ghost of a dead Bichon Frise in a tiny Polo sweater chewing on a croissant. Oh wait, that’s a living Bichon in a Polo sweater chewing on a low-fat blueberry scone. My mistake.

Time-Warner Cable, take me away from this waking nightmare with your high-speed internet service!!! Take me home on a 400 foot length of coaxial cable (that’s about how far the new apartment is from Starbucks – we’re in New York City, after all).

And so, I’ll struggle to write for the rest of this week. And God willing, through sheer force of iron will and strength of character, I’ll make it to Saturday, when a cable company representative will appear at my door and make it all better.

Pray for me.

I know I’ll be praying for myself. After all, I don’t have much else to do without cable or internet.