If life has taught me one thing, it's that whenever something goes wrong and I wonder what moron is responsible, the moron will usually turn out to be me.
Case in point: Yesterday morning I got up and had no Internet access. "Crazy people, all trying to get online before work," I grumbled to myself. I then went downstairs to turn on Little Einsteins for G and discovered that the TV was out too. Oh, so it wasn't my neighbors after all; it was the cable company who had messed up. I assumed that it would get fixed at some point during the day, and went off to work, thinking that I could check my e-mail online there. But guess what? Every time I tried to log in, I got an error message that said my user name and password were wrong, even though I knew they weren't. Wow! Someone must have really blown it big-time if the Web portal was down too!
I went through the day in this state of happy denial (well, not entirely happy, because I was annoyed that I couldn't get my e-mail, but you know what I mean), and as I arrived at home, decided that I ought to check the snail-mail box. Apparently, it had been a while. The catalogues and magazines and envelopes were wedged in until they'd formed one big lump, and once I'd pulled them out, I could barely hold onto the resulting pile and unlock my front door at the same time.
At last I got inside, dropped the mail on the sofa and checked the TV and computer again. Nothing. Hmmph! I sat down to sort through the heap, and the fourth letter was from those idiots at the cable company.
"Dear Customer," it said, "your account is past due and subject to disconnection if [shockingly large amount] is not received in our office by April 16 ..."
Sigh. Once again, idiocy begins at home.