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Remind me never to move again. I am doubtful I will survive the week so I think I am safe on that one. This is where I stay until I die. Or get divorced and have to move in next to Milhouse's dad. I'd better start being nicer to my wife. After all I am probably only alive for another week. I reckon I can stay married til then.
Actually not sure. Moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do. At least this time we don't have a new baby, dog and carbon monoxide (I hope).
The man came to put the internet in today and after a week of no wifi I could have kissed him. But then I remembered the importance of keeping my marriage going, so I just gave him a quick hand job (nothing in the marriage vows about not touching a cock - 1-0 to me God). It felt like it might not happen though (the wifi, not the handjob - I have never failed to get a cock to spunk, though admittedly had only worked with my own til now). Firstly he wasn't sure that my router was modern enough for the fibre connection. I thought BT had sent me a new one, but it was just some kind of booster for when the router goes down.
The plug of my router had been trapped in the old house because we'd got someone to build a cupboard for us and he hadn't left space to get the plug or phone connector out without cutting them. I'd tried to buy a new plug online but realised that it was basically cheaper to buy a second hand router. Then I'd seen that we'd had what looked like a router delivered and so I thought I'd wasted my money.
But that wasn't a router, it was a booster and it turned out that that second hand router was a slightly newer version of the one we had, and it had the correct port. For once things had worked out for me.
There were a few other issues, but they were resolved: he couldn't reach the old telephone wire with his ladder, but he could just set up a new line, the fibre light wasn't coming through, but he went back up the pole and reconnected it. He had to ring a lady at BT to turn everything off and on again, but then we had beautiful, impressively strong internet and I could download videos again (to publicise the podcast, I am not sick). It felt good to be alive.
However by the end of the day I was wishing that I was dead as I struggled to get some of my new appliances working. The trickiest one was the car charger, where I apparently had to download an app and fill in some information that I wasn't really sure about to get the thing working and then download another app to connect the thing to my phone. It was complicated by the fact that I'd mistakenly downloaded the wrong app last week and the charger was connected to that.
I spent about two hours on this thing and it kept telling me at the last minute that the charger had not connected. It was driving me mad. It was like technology was trying to tell me I was too old to be allowed to join in any more.
This was rather proven by the fact that when trying to connect my washer and dryer to the internet (why you might reasonably ask?) I had mistakenly thought the dryer was the washer and vice versa and been complaining to the people who did all the work on our house that it wasn't letting me do the washing machine calibration. The reason for this was because I was looking at the dryer.
I got that all working eventually before trying to change my Hive app over to the new house - which again proved quite difficult to do and when I rang up they said they could help me if I paid them, but if not they'd send an email explaining how to do it. Which seemed a bit much. I took the email choice and did quite well, but lost patience before seeing that the reboot might take 30 minutes and thought I'd fucked up the whole thing. But it settled eventually and I got set up.
Then I tried to set up the Ring doorbell that came with this house and take off the Ring doorbell that I'd left behind and even that was troublesome and I have to wait two weeks til they have somehow proven that the bell in this house is actually mine.
I felt frazzled by the end of the day, but had some kind of brainwave about the car charger and came down at about 9pm to try and sort it out. It didn't seem to work and this time it not only didn't connect but told me that my charger is owned by someone else. They're fucking welcome to it. It takes a lot to do something so badly that a bit of tech you own decides to give itself to someone else. I suspect that I am the person who owns it. But how could I get in to prove it? I am not made for the 21st Century.
Then I remembered that my 18th Century bureau still has its own key locked inside it and realised that tech probably got beyond me once someone had the idea of hitting a rock against another rock. I'd certainly be lost if you told me to make an Oldowan chopping-tool and that was the equivalent of the iphone for about a quarter of a million years.
Everything felt so badly wrong that I wanted to take a hammer to the lot of it. but wasn't convinced I'd hold it by the right end.
This stuff really drives me crazy, even if I know that eventually a proper man will come along and sort if for me. I decided to do something I was capable of and set up a TV for the kids to watch in the morning. But then I couldn't find the remote control. I tried to download a remote control on my phone but helpfully it wouldn't connect to a TV unless it was on the same wireless network, so I had to laboriously enter the wifi code by reaching round the back of the TV (not the first reach round of the day) and moving the cursor around and pressing the confirm button without being able to see it. After all the phone didn't want to connect to the TV anyway.
I am utterly hopeless. Thank God I live in the time I do or I would have been eaten by a tiger by now for sure. Or just starved to death. Or succumbed to injuries inflicted on myself when I tried to make a hand axe. I am no use to anyone and yet somehow have not only survived, but thrived. Utter shitbag.
