Tuesday, March 29, 2005

On Sunday morning, my cable modem took one look in the mirror and decided to curl up and die, and it’s been touch and go since then. This is why I’m typing and keeping tabs on the blinking lights embedded in the goddamn contraption, hoping beyond hope they’ll continue to flash in a configuration conducive to, I don’t know, maybe not deactivating.

How on earth did we have a discussion yesterday? I dropped by my office after getting some gas, which in retrospect wasn’t so smart because that part of Evanston doesn’t really bustle, at least not in the wholesome Frommer’s sense, during the more unchristian hours.

We’ll talk more tomorrow, but right now? I’m running out of time. If I lose this connection, it’d be like saying, “Why, hello. I’d like to have a conversation with you, except I don’t have lips or even eyes, for that matter. And oops, there go all my limbs! It’s a good thing I’m consistent and–“