I’d been feeling pretty confident about my computer skills–such as they are–having helped stop some credit card fraud by tracking down the IP addresses the crook was using and determining the likely country of origin. Pretty high tech for a girl from Amish country, eh? OK, so maybe “cocky” was a better adjective to use than “confident.”
But I was reminded where pride goeth when I found out why I’d been unable to connect to the Internet on my home computer for the past two weeks. I’d assumed it was some sort of treacherous virus or a broken wire; I was ready to concede defeat and take the machine in for repair when my husband, thanks to the magic of Google, identified the problem. It wasn’t a virus. It wasn’t a broken wire. It was… a switch. A switch for the wireless that had somehow become set to the “off” position. He flipped it and voila…Internet!
In my defense, the switch is a small, sliding job, black against the blackness of the computer’s case, virtually invisible to anyone who doesn’t know what exactly to look for. Still… a switch? Don’t get me wrong–I was plenty happy to avoid a repair bill–but darn, do I feel silly.
So I’ll console myself with two moments of unexpected beauty that transpired during my exile from the Internet:
Maybe some Internet-free time isn’t such a bad thing after all.