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Every now and then, I find myself stranded without internet. And I really do mean stranded. It’s like none of my favorite toys work–I can’t back-up documents on Google Docs, I can’t email things to my Kindle, I can’t piss off on Reddit (current favorites are the suite of subreddits focusing on aquariums). I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s kind of sad, really.

Last weekend I was up at my sister’s rustic cabin, and there was no internet. A friend stopped by and offered to let me sit on her porch and steal wifi, because that’s what stranded people do up there, they go bask in her wifi.

I opted instead to bury my nose in a couple of books (Good Omens and some non-fiction about vampires and the third Harry Potter book) and talk to my sister’s kids about zombis (the real kind) and my sister about dark and stormies (rum and ginger beer and some magic).

The nights were cool, and my mother chased me around, trying to throw a white linen jacket over my salmon colored dressed named David Bowie (because he’s full of 80s goodness). I couldn’t let her though–it would have covered up his great shoulder details (pleating and a zipper) plus it didn’t match, at all. My ratty hoodie with the power lines on it looked a lot better. Oh, I also discovered my nephew wanted his Russian prison tattoo hoodie back. He’d been wondering where it was, and I’d been a little surprised he didn’t want all things considered (there are eyeballs on it, it’s covered in Russian prison tattoos). Somehow, I ended up in a pair of mom jeans one night.

Altogether, I survived. No, actually, I had a lot of fun. I made a couple of aborted attempts to check Gmail on my Kindle, but it was less interesting than what was going on around me.

It’s probably good for me to go without the internet. Of course, the next time I visit my parent’s house in NH, I’m probably going to make more of an effort to track down their wifi password, because without it my netbook is kinda useless.