Happy Monday, at least for me. The past week or so my TV has gone bats***. Saturday was the last straw. I called the company. I got a pleasant woman who was sympathetic and took my call with the listing of the fifteen channels that had gone South. She transferred me to a nice man who listened and determined where my call should be routed. Another nice lady. She made an appointment for the serviceman to visit between 9 and 11. So I got up and made myself presentable. The TV was still a tad nuts and the local channels were gone. It was 10:15 and no serviceman. The Murph offered ideas about the cause, but he was half asleep. I was holding out for another tenant tapping into my cable. I had revenge fantasies, ranging from blowing up his TV, a rent reduction for me and an increase for him, a visit from a couple leg breakers and eviction. I really, really wanted eviction, quick, no warning eviction. There’s snow outside and the visual was lovely. The serviceman showed at 10:45 and went to work. He checked the connections, went outside, checked something, checked if the problem had been solved. It went on for about a half hour. He disconnected the cable box and took it back to the truck. He came back with a new box. The problem persisted. He went out and checked the connections (the box). The TV went out. I read and waited. He came back with the news; squirrels had eaten through the cables at the main junction, some had tapped into my service and the inside cable box was a day away from being DOA. He was happy. He solved a problem. I was happy. I had Honey Boo Boo back. The Murph was happy because the interference that happened every time he changed channels stopped. I didn’t yell or try to strangle him. His patience with ordinary malfunctions must be immeasurable. Or he thought that’s the way it worked.

Saturday I became the person who I have wasted valuable time on fuming and cursing. One thing that sets me off is being in a checkout line at the store and someone has an item that doesn’t scan or a coupon that’s invalid. There’s one that flat pisses me off. Getting all the items on the conveyer, the clerk checking everything and only when every item has been bagged handing over the store card deciding how to pay, picking out the right credit card and then behaving as if this was the first time they’ve made a credit purchase. After that I leave the store talking to myself. Saturday I purchased Italian cold cuts. I would’ve gone to the deli counter but it was crowded. They had what I wanted prepackaged and it was a bit more varied than what the deli carried. Got everything on the list including plastic wrap which had eluded purchase two weeks before. At the checkout I put my groceries on the belt sorted so they would be packed in the order I’d stow them in the back seat. The cold cuts got to the scanner. Not one scanned. A runner was called and he did a price check. I felt like an asshat. The lady behind me was smiling but I sensed that if I disappeared into a bottomless pit, she’d chuckle. The line behind her was long and thinking about lynching me. I did what I thought was right, I apologized to everyone behind me and walked out with a semi-slink.

A song to go:

This is some of the things I’ve loaded on various MP3 players. Enjoy. Looking for Django Reinhart videos.

See you on Wednesday.