The less fortunate

My mother, full of timely wisdom, used to say by way of comfort during difficult trials growing up that I should count my blessings, because things could be much worse. Although this generally did not elicit a great degree of thankfulness on my part, I have come to take comfort in this philosophy.

Take my co-worker, for example.

There is evidently some sort of technology warp around her home, such that no two pieces of technology ever work at the same time, and sometimes none of them works. If cable is humming along as it should, the phone is dead. If the phone is working, the AC is not. Though normally many of these components function quite independently, in her case some sort of interconnectedness binds them all together, and there is apparently a limit to how many can function all at the same time.

For a time her cable was out, and the poor creature had to resort to dial-up Internet. "I've gone 20 days without cable," she confided.

We suggested that "20 Days Without Cable" might be a nice title for a reality show, on which contestants vie to see who can go the longest as, gradually, piece by piece of modern technology is forceably removed from their daily lives.

Then, in the cruel reality show that is my co-worker's life, even her dial-up stopped working. Truly, I count my blessings.

She fears that some sort of curse has been placed on her, perhaps for transgressions unknown, and has been advised to make penance, preferably in several ways and in keeping with different faiths. She is quite willing to do this, if only she could be assured that such efforts would result in being able to Google again in a timely manner.

She suggests that in the meantime, anyone wishing to get in touch with her at home could resort to a caveman-style communication, wherein a friend would scrawl a large message on the side of her home, and she would reply in like manner:

Friend: HOW ARE YOU GETTING ALONG LIVING IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY?

Co-worker: FINE! I AM EVEN LEARNING TO BAKE BREAD IN THE TRADITION OF MY FOREMOTHERS!

She has also theorized that perhaps she was actually meant to be Amish, and that somehow her non-technological roots are dogging her in an effort to return her to the fold. In support of this theory, I pointed out that she does have a common Amish first name.

If the Amish theory is correct, somewhere her modern twin is living in an Amish community, ever under a cloud of suspicion for displaying technological wisdom in a non-technological world. On market day she probably sneaks into some Internet cafe, where she makes exhaustive efforts to connect with a twin she knows is out there somewhere.

But it is unlikely they will ever meet, unless the twin can somehow make it to my co-worker's house and scrawl a message on the side.