Sing me Spanish telco
Three months into my "new" apartment and I'm still awaiting the installation of DSL. Doesn't Jazztel want my money? I've been trying to give it to them since December, eager fistfuls of fresh Euros ripe for the picking. Sadly, humor rarely translates across the language barrier, so all my "Take my money, please!" jokes have fallen flat when speaking to customer service reps.
The good news is that I can occasionally connect from the ample terrace out back; the bad news is that spring is slow coming, and my fingers are very cold. Plus I'm getting paranoid about just whose un-password-protected wi-fi I'm filching. I just spied a guy in the building opposite, watching me through his window as he talked on a wireless phone. For a second I thought he might be calling in an airstrike (there were police choppers hovering overhead just this weekend, I swear).
I gotta stop watching 24.
(Predictably, I lost my connection somewhere midway through writing this useless post. Last night, I spent about an hour and a half resetting my Airport, trying to mail in my "Critical Beats" column for the month. The cat sitting on my lap helped keep me from freezing, but it damn near chewed through my headphone cable in the process. Kids, nothing in life is free.)