Learning to be Thankful

It has been said in these situations that when it rains, it pours. In this particular case, it's more like explosive diarrhea of bad karma, rotten luck or an extreme case of "shit happens."

Friday night storms raged with a vengence. The rain was beating on the metal roof of the trailer as if it were going to break through at any moment, the thunder rolled and boomed, the sound bouncing around off the mountains and causing the walls to vibrate.

I loved it. I'm weird that way.

At around eleven o'clock, my internet connection went kaputz. I checked the phones, they were dead. Now, I can live without a phone, no one calls me (except the occasional fellow blogger *wink*) and the only time I call anyone is to order out for dinner. But my DSL is another story. The internet is my connection with the world outside of Frog Pond Holler, the voice of civilization, the chance to converse with people who's parents aren't first cousins.

This simply would not do.

Saturday morning I got dressed and walked around the house to see if there were any trees down on the line. There were some trees hanging down, but no more than usual. Ma was convinced that the trees were the problem, I wasn't so sure. I had to take the van to get the window fixed anyway, so I dropped it off at the station then walked over to the little local grocery next door where they let me use their phone. I called the phone company and had a conversation of sorts with a recording, finally got a live person after pretending that I didn't understand the instructions (it seems to be the only way) who just kept repeating everything the recording said. She admonished me for not wanting to perform the self tests on the line then told me that it would be.. get this.. FORTY FIVE BUCKS for each half hour if they sent a repairman and it wasn't their fault.

Well crap.

I thanked the lady at the store for use of the phone, walked back home, now pissed off. I wasn't awake yet, hadn't had coffee and I have to admit, I'm not exactly a pleasure to deal with first thing in the morning. I went outside and climbed on the fence around the dog lot to get to the phone box. I couldn't get the stupid thing open and gave up. In the meantime, Ma comes in here giving me her two cents worth. The phone, to her, is what the internet is to me. She never leaves the house, seldom comes out of her room, but she talks on the phone all the time. I have no clue who she talks to. We were both going through withdrawl. She said she didn't care how much they wanted to charge, it HAD to be fixed, implied that I was a tightwad (I am) and pretty much told me to march my chunky little butt back down to the payphone to call them back and ask for them to send a repairman. She said I end up spending more money trying to fix stuff myself (I do) than I would if I'd just let someone who knows what they're doing take care of it.

I HATE when she's right.

I convinced the Amazon to walk back to town to the payphone, which she did. She came back frustrated and somewhat angry after dealing with the recording and I can't really blame her. I didn't want to give in to the situation and.. well.. FORTY FIVE BUCKS FOR THIRTY MINUTES??? So I went back outside, Amazon in tow, and started taking down large limbs and small trees with my bare hands then using the limbs to poke and pull at the brush that was laying on the wires. This made my child nervous, she was convinced I was going to poke the wrong thing and end up electrocuted. I eventually gave up and came back inside.

I headed back to town and noticed that the van had been moved, so I walked over to the station to check on it. It was fixed and Jethro didn't charge me anything, so he's temporarily back in my good graces. I got in the van, cranked it up and made sure the windows worked. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a face appeared in the window. I nearly crapped a small herd of heifers. It was a woman, in her mid thirties with piercing blue eyes. Her black hair was cut short around her chubby face and when she spoke, it became clear that she was probably one of the residents from the group home up on the hill.

"Scuse me, Miss?" she asked.

"Umm hi there."

"Could you spare a dollar, or two to get something to eat?" She motioned towards the dollar store which faces the back of the gas station as she spoke.

"Let me see what I've got." I never carry cash, I use my debit card for everything, but before I left, I'd gotten a couple of dollars in quarters from Ma in case I needed them for the payphone. I dug around in my change purse and pulled out $1.50 in quarters. I explained to her how much it was, she seemed a little disapointed that it was coins and not paper money. She started to ramble on about how "them people" at the dollar store wouldn't let her have nothin' without some money and seemed shocked that such heartless people existed in this world. After I handed her the money, which I'll admit wasn't much but it was all I had at the time and there are things you can get at that particular store for a buck, I thought she'd leave.

I sort of ignored her and put my hand on the gear shift, ready to pull out. But she stood there, looking past me and at the pack of cigarettes lying on the passenger seat.

"Miss? Could I git one of yer cigarettes?"

"Sure." I gave her one, smiled and started to turn away.

"Thank you miss. Can I get a light?"

"Of course!" By now I'm thinking I'm going to have to bring her home with me, she's never going to leave. She stuck the cigarette in her mouth, then put her face through the window and I lit it for her. I never want to see a woman's mouth puckered up that close to my face again. She drew long and deep, her eyes seemingly rolling back in her head with the taste of it. Then she thanked me and went on over to the dollar store. Think what you want but, if that same woman had been asking for money to go buy a drink, I still would have given it to her if I'd had it to spare. Although she wasn't homeless, I have been. When you've lived in a car (briefly, with an ex-con, many many years ago, when I was much younger and a hell of a lot stupider) you don't see people asking for a handout in the same way.

I got to the payphone, finally, and called the phone company. I went through all of the same questions and eventually the recording promised someone would be out here between 8am and 1pm on Sunday. I could live with that. After I came back home, I noticed that the lights on the DSL modem were lit up. I checked the phone, it was still dead, but I had an internet connection. I soon figured out that once every hour or so, a signal would come through, for a minute or two. It was weak, but I could check my email at least. So for the remainder of the evening, as I piddled around the house, I kept an eye on the modem and when the internet light was on, I'd run over and type furiously to check my email accounts (why in the hell do I have five email accounts? I get about as many emails as I do phone calls)

Cutie Patootie phone guy showed up around 12:30 and the phones are fixed. The internet is back up now (obviously) and there is some balance in my universe. The Amazon just got back from town and informed me that although the windows work on the van now, the power lock button on the drivers side does not (it worked fine before.) She'd been to town to pick up her pay in cash, because her paycheck had bounced.

Such is life in Frog Pond Holler. At least I'm not living in a car. Funny how God puts people in our path to remind us of how far we've come. Sometimes we need a cosmic kick in the pants to keep things in perspective.