When we got up on the sixth, we discovered that our Comcast Triple Play--phone, TV and internet service—was out of commission. We were then none too pleased to learn that the understaffed Comcast repair team could not fit us into their busy repair schedule until Sunday, when they promised to drop by some time between 8 a.m. and noon.At noon on Sunday, I called in to report a tech no-show. At 12:20, I was told that the tech was twenty minutes away.
Forty minutes later, I called in to report another no show.
Soon thereafter, the tech appeared at the back gate and within a quarter hour he brought us back to the land of the digitally connected.
The shocking diagnosis: some time between 3 a.m. and the time Mari got up on Friday morning, a vandal had come into our back yard, pried open our locked cable connection box (that the little one on the right in the photo at left) and unscrewed the cable that connects Comcast to us. The tech said it was not the first time he’d come across such a case.
8 comments:
that's totally bizarre. what does a vandal get out of disconnecting your cable except for mischievious delight at being a pain in your ass? that's so stupid.
you know I think I saw Nathaniel eyeing that cable box during your birthday party.....
I KNEW it!
That's ridiculous! No son of mine would ever do such a thing!...Nathaniel! What are you doing with that DVR Box? Why do you have such a demonic glint in your eye? Why am I witing this rather than just saying it out loud? No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
so you finally admit that he's your son! HA - I got you!
There's a sense of violation, isn't there, when someone does something like that?
Yes. Especially when it's someone you napped with just a few days ago.
Hope you find the varmint. Maybe she or he is connected to the string of heinous crimes committed at my address: the broken car glass, the bullet hole in my picture window, the bullet hole in my car window, my missing car radio, the eggs on my car, the two mailboxes that were run down, the broken sprinklers run over by some fine person, not to mention the perception that my yard must appear to be a junk yard for Herion needles, beer cans, fast food stuff, diapers and other various and misc. stuff. Hey and I live in a nice neighborhood, across the street from a church, less that a block from an elementary school, four blocks from a middle school and 6 blocks from a high school. Oh, I live in "The All American" city. That's fine, I just don't want all american debris in my yard. Maybe if it has some food, cause I am the wylie coyote
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