A Utility Exchange

After trying to write concerning a host of topics this leisurely Monday morning, it seems to me that the source of my writer's block comes does not come from the three day weekend or staying up late, but rather from somewhere I am donating my money on a monthly basis.

Cox Communications.

Apartment life, when it comes down to it, is pretty simple. This is illustrated in what it takes to keep my apartment from turning into a maelstrom of boredom. Rent is key; without paying your rent, I'm sure I could set up my entertainment center in Jon's front yard, my kitchen on the Smiths' porch, and for showering, there's always the waterfall at the mini-golf place across the street. (By the way, I OWN that course. You wanna try me?) Electricity is also essential. Sure, I have candles, but how often do I actually remember to pick up matchbooks at bars and restaurants? (I'm lucky to not leave my keys in the booth.) I also have a gas bill, to pay for heat in the winter. Less neccessary, since I've got blankets, so I consider it a luxury. Finally, the combomatic Cox Communications cable and internet bill. 84 bucks a month for these two sources of entertainment. Well, I want my 42 bucks back.

Someone broke the internet. I am not going to point fingers, but I'm looking in Cox's general direction. There is no worse internet situation than intermittent signal. I would rather know for sure that I can't check my fantasy football team or work e-mail or guitar tabs for Sister Hazel's new album (get it, Toms.) Instead, I get internet for about 12 seconds every, um, hour. So if I get this to post at all, you'll know that I was in the zone.

On a day off, you really realize how much you rely on the internet get things done. With that in mind, I'm huddled in a corner of the apartment rocking back and forth in a little ball, because I don't know how to work the washing machine without www.laundry.com.

Okay, okay! I made that up. I meant the dryer.