Rough week

This has not been one of my better weeks. And as they say in the South, if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. Perhaps including Mama’s son-in-law, a.k.a. the guru-in-law.

Early in the week we realized there was something going on with our wireless Internet service. The modem and router are here with my desktop computer. They also serve Dave’s computer upstairs, and my laptop anywhere it may be in the house. I could not figure out why we dropped off the Internet several times a day, for no detectable reason.

Where on earth did we get the notion that these electronic bullies were going to make life easier for us, or at least better informed? When it works right, we are seduced into believing we can access all the information in the world, free. But when it doesn’t work right, we sure pay a price.

I’m passionate about the Internet, at least most of the time. You’ve heard me declare it the most important invention of our generation, and I still think so. But I’m embarrassed to confess, I am so dependent on the Web that when I lose it, I panic. I’m on deadline – I’m always on deadline for something! – or someone is awaiting information I have, or… or…whatever! I’m out of touch with the world and on the verge of hysteria.

I don’t know how people keep a computer running without an in-house cyber guru. What do they do, hire a technician? Push one of the kids through tech school and let him live at home rent-free until he’s 42? Keep a “Geek” on retainer?

There’s something you’ve gotta understand about any guru you engage, under whatever terms. They probably have a day job and may fall asleep on the keyboard of their computer when the after-hours hours grow late. It’s not too surprising. They’re working blind, trying to cure whatever ails your system – 700 miles away. After work.

This is where Brian comes in. Brian married our Jean seven years ago, just about the time I was losing my first guru. (No, I didn’t work Bob to death. He got a paying job that keeps him busy about 12 hours a day, and I have enough shame not to coax him to spend several more hours with me. Free.)

Besides, Brian is just so darned nice about it. Says things like, “You gave me the most wonderful woman in the world, so I am delighted to help you with your computer.”

Mushy, indeed, but that’s part of the price to be paid.

So, last week we spent at least 10 hours spread over at least four evenings, with Brian leading me through a maze of instructions by telephone, until the diagnosis was made. (He has a telephone system that lets him talk long distance at no cost.)

Brian’s credentials, apart from son-in-lawhood, include teaching advanced high school math and computer sciences. After dinner, he logs some computer time of his own, runs Isaac through some home schooling questions, maybe takes a nap.

Jean is exhausted after a full day with the kids, especially if one is sick and needs extra time. Brian takes over while she goes on to bed to make up for lost sleep the night before. I usually call about 9:45 when the baby (who still takes naps) is the only one left for Brian to watch.

Brian is incredibly patient, rarely has to scold. “No computer,” voiced sternly, turns the baby away from a fascinating jumble of wires. If it doesn’t, the little one is off to “baby prison,” an old playpen, where he lets out just a brief, indignant protest before he begins amusing himself with the trucks in prison with him. When he does fuss, it’s softer by far than his brother Samuel at the same age.

Same age – oh my gosh, the baby turned 1 year old on Sunday….

Did I mention that Dave taught Samuel to say “Achtung, Schwein!” earlier last year? And when we visited over Christmas, those were the words with which he greeted us?

Well, Baby-U uttered a few “first” words in recent weeks. Among them, appropriately, “Da-da.” Another, you guessed it: “Achtung!”

But back to the demons in my office. The verdict: a failing router. We bought and installed a new one. Got the boss computer working, then my laptop, and after a week of effort, Dave’s.

Of course, I’m simultaneously relieved and suspicious. What will next week hold? How much longer will Brian put up with this? How much worse can it get?

Oh, plenty, especially when the attention of the adult in charge gets distracted. One evening last week, Samuel was still up as Brian was dragging me through the innards of my errant computer. He raised his voice uncharacteristically, said “Gotta go, talk to you later.” Click.

It seems Sam-I-am was pushing his truck on the kitchen island whereon resides Jean’s dark blue Beta fish in a clear pitcher. Fortunately, the pitcher didn’t break or fall to the floor – just overturned. The fish was rescued from the puddle in which he was flopping and restored to his crystal home.

Two days later, Jean was in the living room nursing her youngest, when Samuel walked by with a sponge and a towel.

“Clean up!” he chirped. “Clean up.”

If only a computer could be remedied as easily.