Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned by her cable/internet provider

Last week, I got an Apple TV and a subscription to Netflix, which (because I can buy shoes and groceries online) basically means I will never have to leave my house again.

Of course, because the universe hates me, setting the Apple TV up was NOT as easy as it should have been. According to Apple Support, (iSupport? And for that matter, why isn’t Apple TV called iTV? Actually, it’s probably better as Apple TV. iTV sounds like an STD. Like I picture a doctor talking to a patient and saying, “It’s actually quite serious. You’ve contracted iTV. You’re going to have to notify all of your past sexual partners because they could have been exposed as well.” NOT something you’d want to give as a Christmas present.) it won’t work on my TV at all without being wobbly.

Two days later, the score was my dad: 1, Apple Support: 0. Well played dad, well played.

So I was thrilled at how easily I would be able to watch movies/TV shows/all of the concert videos from my computer.

Which means that something had to go horribly, horribly wrong. Because like the course of true love, my life never runs smooth.

Thank you Verizon Fios, for stepping up to the challenge of screwing everything up.

I suppose I should be grateful. Fios completely dying on me is less expensive to deal with than my TV blowing up or my surround sound amplifier catching on fire. But it’s also more annoying, because I currently have ZERO cable OR internet service.

In other words, I’ve been Amish for the past 36-48 hours, depending on when you’re reading this.

Okay, okay, not TRULY Amish. Because I still have electricity and running water and store-bought butter, and yes, TECHNICALLY I can still get on the internet VERY slowly by using my cell phone as a mobile hotspot and docking it to my computer.  So maybe more Mennonite than Amish. But whatever you call it, it flat out sucks. A lot.

I don’t think of myself as a person who watches a lot of television. I’ve got a handful of shows that I’m addicted to (at the moment, Dexter, Boardwalk Empire, House, Glee, and South Park are all set up to record the series on my dvr), but other than those, I don’t really watch anything else. I can’t stand reality shows or anything on Bravo or E!, so when the cable went out yesterday and the Fios guys told me they couldn’t get anyone out here until Friday, I figured it was a pain, but I would be okay.

About an hour after that phone call, I called Fios support back and BEGGED them to send someone out sooner. In that hour, Rosie and I had somehow regressed to a Lord of the Flies type scenario, with war paint smeared on our faces, a conch shell, spears, and a mysterious beast stalking us through my apartment.

Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. The beast didn’t show up until the second hour without TV or internet.

Luckily, the wait is almost over. In theory. Because, in theory, the Fios repair guy is supposed to show up this afternoon. In theory.

The problem is that the only window they had available was 1pm-5pm today, unless I wanted to wait until Tuesday night. And if I waited until Tuesday, I’m pretty sure that by the time they DID arrive, I’d have “No TV and no beer make Homer go crazy” scribbled all over my walls and it would look like the scene out of Apocalypse Now when they finally find Marlon Brando and he’s a fat psychopath who has enslaved all the natives. I mean, the horror. The horror.

But one to five this afternoon? Um, hello, I have a job! So I warned them that I can’t be there before three today, and I think I made myself sufficiently clear that they absolutely NEEDED to arrive AFTER three.

Which means the guy is going to call me at 1:15 to say he’s there.

And if that happens, God have mercy on everyone who works within a thirty mile radius of any Fios employee. Because I’m not going to go medieval on them. Oh no. Sorry Quentin Tarantino, but that’s not nearly scary enough. I’m going to go biblical. I’m talking darkness and locusts and smiting their first born.

It’s probably not healthy that instead of reading or working on my next book (or even getting ahead on my blog posts), I’ve been sitting here plotting my revenge against Fios for when they show up too early. But I know that’s going to happen. And while I threatened over the phone last night to go back to Comcast, I don’t really want to do that either. Because after years of suffering at the hand of Comcast, I finally freed myself from its evil empire, and I don’t want to go crawling back like a battered woman returning to her abuser again and again.

So Fios guy, if by some chance you’re reading this, I’d show up around 3:15 today if I were you. Because while William Congreve (NOT William Shakespeare, as the line is commonly misattributed to) said, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned,” what he MEANT to say was “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned BY HER INTERNET AND CABLE PROVIDER.”