The tech came to install the second jack that will have my precious, precious DSL on it, only to run into a snag.
Now, not being someone who knows a lot about phone equipment, the precise explanation of the problem eludes me. However, the short version goes like this:
Four wires go into the first floor, two wires come out the third floor, and nobody knows where the junction is.Options here, then, are to either get access to the first floor and try to trace these fucking wires around the M. C. Escher-inspired apartment house that I happen to live in, replete with deranged second-floor neighbor, who found it necessary to come out while the tech was here and curse at us because she was not able to go into the backyard to perform her "ablutions", i.e. give herself a sponge bath. Luckily, the tech confirmed that, much as I suspected, my second floor neighbor is 'crazy'.
And now, for no reason at all, Lil' Jon's review of some of Jewel's poetry:
That ain't no fucking poetry. That's a run-on sentence.Regardless, it appears that tomorrow, through a system of bribes and exhortations, I will have DSL. The landlord provided permission to drill another hole in the outside wall, and the tech's going to come back tomorrow and Make The DSL Happen.
And, finally, I can get viruses and pr0n at the speed of Fast.
