Internet Addiction

Hi, I am Daykotah and I am an addict. I love sitting in front of my computer hours and hours a day. While my grandkids are getting ready for school, I'm online. When they come home from school, I'm online. When I wake up everyday I get ready to get on my computer. Not get ready to go shopping, or go hang out when other retirees, nope I get ready to get on my computer.

No one in my family understands it. I don't expect them to, nor do I care. To keep my grandkids off my computer, I bought each one a computer. So there are 4 computers with a wireless internet connection in the house. They don't know it, but I frequently check their history to see what sites they've visited. For Christmas this year, I have demanded a nice Dell laptop from my adult offspring. By nice I mean one with a 17" monitor, 2gb memory, a webcam, dvd/cd burner, yep the works! If I don't get it, there's going to be a very angry Mother in the house.

Why would I need a laptop when my computer is right next to my bed? So when I go outside when the weather is nice, I can relax and go online. Plus, instead of curling up with a good book and a cup of iced decaf coffee, I want to curl up with a laptop. If I want to read, I can always read a book online!!

Any addict will tell you, when they cannot get online, all hell breaks loose. Several weeks ago I had problems staying connected. I would disconnect the wireless router/modem combo, wait 30 seconds, then reconnect it. I would reboot. Nothing worked. And it only happened on my computer. So what did I do. Called my service provider to rant and rave.

Have you ever ranted and raved to an automated troubleshooting system? I doesn't work. I screamed and yelled to no avail. It doesn't listen. It doesn't care. I kept hitting the "0" on the phone, hoping to force it to connect me to a real person. Didn't work. It made me go through it's agonizing steps of troubleshooting that I had already done.

After hanging up and calling back for the 5th time, it finally transferred me to a human. As calmly as any raving lunatic could be, I explained that my Internet connection would drop every 4-5 minutes, sometimes in less time than that. I listened to their condescending reply with anger. They couldn't possibly understand how I felt. I hadn't been able to check my email for a whole 20 minutes. Surely there was some website out there waiting for my special visit.

Finally, after troubleshooting a few minutes, I was told they would send out a technician, but not until the next day. What? 14 hours without my Internet? I told them that was unacceptable! I threatened to cancel my account, but nothing I said could get a technician here any sooner. What do I do?

The wait was excruciating. I tried a hot bubble bath. I even tried to watch tv. What is this stuff on tv nowdays? Who are these people? I called friends and relatives whose first question out of their mouths were, "What's wrong? What happened?" followed by "Did somebody die?" Ok, so I don't talk on the phone much. I assured them all was well, except my Internet was down.

Did I get any sympathy? NO! Instead I had to listen to hours of baby stories to college bound teenager stories. No one had any Internet stories for me to live through vicariously. I listened as I watched the clock, counting down the hours. Maybe if I fixed a sandwich with another cup of iced decaf coffee, I would get sleepy. Maybe I could knock off 6 hours. It must have worked, because I woke up to a knock on my door.

It was the tech. I wanted to hug him, but I restrained myself. After checking everything out, he changed out my Netgear router/modem combo and my USB wireless network adapter and got me online in less than an hour. After thanking him profusely and offering him my granddaughter's hand in marriage, he left.

I was back online. Relieved, happy. I smiled when I opened Outlook Express to find 4700 messages waiting. Ahhhh. Bliss!!

...with a 17" monitor 3gb dual channel memory 200 gb hard drive nvidia video.. ah yeah!!

There was a time I spoke eloquently. Now the words have trouble traveling the route from my brain to my mouth. There was a time I had a beautiful handwriting. Now I scribble worse than any doctor. But I can type 80 words per minute!!!