I came home from a week away to find that I had no Internet. Now I can quote HD Thoreau, "Simplify, simplify, simplify," and I know it's pathetic to be so connected to being connected that one freaks when unable to surf. But you don't know what it's like until you face that little balloon that says, "...limited or no connectivity" for three days straight.

I had bills to pay, blogs to write, contacts to make, and sites to research. It seems that every time I thought of something I could do, the way led through the Internet, and the balloon would not change its message.

There were phone calls, of course. One said all operators were busy. The next let me leave a voicemail, and I hope I didn't sound too desperate. They called me back, but I had gone for a walk, one of the few things I can do without the web (I also baked cookies, cleaned the bathroom, and did some gardening: you can't say I wasted the day). When I called again I was on hold for eight minutes, got a guy who took the basic info and then put me on hold again. Thirteen minutes later I hung up, gave up, and read a book.

Wonder of wonders, I'm back this morning. Someone, somewhere, heard my cry.

Do I know how pathetic it is to be lost without the Net? Yeah, but it's such a part of authoring these days. No one calls, no one writes. No one asks you, "Tell me about yourself." They email, they blog, and they check out your website.

It's communication, 2008. And as long as my connection works, I don't mind it a bit.

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