The (W)Right Place at the Right Time: NaBloPoMo Numero Uno

My cousin steals the Internet from The Comfort Inn and feels perfectly comfortable doing it. Who wouldn't tap into someone else's free wireless in New York, where you're stacked so closely together, you're practically living like a Pringles chip? The downside: it's totally unreliable. You're mid-email, mid-episode of "The Office," mid-stalk-session via The Bliggity Blogosphere, and BAM! It's gone! Kaput! Outta here! Comforting? I think not. It was with such discomfort (utter chaos, panic and hysteria) that I found my dear cousin a week ago last Monday.

I'm all for protecting the Innocent, especially when the Innocent includes myself (oops. So much for that) so I'm not naming names, but there are a few of us (I'm rounding down) that have become somewhat, oh how shall we say it, "consumed" (again, rounding down) with a certain blog. The posts, the pictures the documentation of The Perfect Family of Four. It's the whole idea that when a good thing comes along you might as well share it philosophy. Can one ever have too much of a good thing? I'm arguing "Nay" on this one.

K and I arrived home after a tiring day in the City ready to plop ourselves up in the loft and settle in for some "epps," as she says, of our favorite shows. We soon donned our flannel and cozied in goose-down. The Comfort signal read strong. Oh Happy Day. But, business before pleasure, right? I logged into my email account to see what was going on in my little work world. When I realized that it wasn't much, I thought I'd share a few good things with K before we sat back for a sitcom. It wasn't long (a mere instant) before K joined the Fan Club and we were previous-posts surfing the night away when it all took a turn for the worse. Indeed it was dire. The doom was impending. But for K and J, the newest members of the Fan Club, this was an all out Dismal DOOMSDAY!

Before I knew it, K was up on her knees, ibook in hand as if she was offering it up as a sacrifice, shouting in the direction of The Comfort Inn, "Three Bars! Three Bars!" As she inched closer and closer to the ledge of the loft, off the mattresses, I was sure her fleeced knees were about to slide. J joined and seemed to summon the Comfort Inn Wi-Fi gods with some sort of ritual arm dance done from a kneeling position, as the top of the loft allows no more than that, unless you plan to puncture your Pringled head through to floor five. So there they were, imploring the gods of the Internet, but mostly the Comfort Inn, after all, this was indeed entirely their fault. I could only look upon these primordial prayer-sayers and...join right in! Good grief this was an occasion for such prayers; such dances!

Gasping dramatically, K froze. She had found it. The sweet spot. The Cingular of Wi-Fi (more bars in more places.) Such beauty in such a little symbol. We silently inched closer to her as she scrolled the touch-pad with one finger and clicked the refresh button. And there, in 22 West 25th Street, New York, NY, we were back in business. Loyal fans...tried and true...to the death (nearly) in exactly (and I mean exactly) the (W)right place at the right time.

NaBloPoMo
*as always, thanks to E. Here's to the challenge! (Oi!)