My poor, mistreated children have been without TV for 2 weeks. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. My poor, mistreated children have been without TV for the portion of 2 weeks that we have actually been in our new home, so that means they were without TV for 6 days. The rest of the time, we were staying at their grandparents house where the kids made up for lost time. They could hardly survive the drive from High Springs back to Brandon to once again hold the remote control.
Today was the day. DirectTV was coming today some time between 8:00 and 12:00. We were still asleep at 8:15 when the heroes arrived in the white van. (Don’t judge us. We’re tired from moving, and it’s really, really hard to wake up out here! Our bedrooms stay so dark from the shade of the trees that it never gets bright like morning. And, besides, when do they EVER show up on time??) Anywho… Apparently, the DirectTV guys called Mr. E’s cell phone and my cell phone but we did not hear either one. It’s possible that they did not actually ring, since we are in the boondocks. (That’s a good lesson for you, too. If you call me and I don’t answer, I’m not ignoring you. My phone doesn’t work. Okay. I might be ignoring you, but now I have an excuse.)
The Beetle heard the technicians at the door. He came running across the house and pounded on our bedroom door. I was sure there was a fire, because the Beetle doesn’t rush. Ever. I said, “What? What is it???” as I jumped out of bed, convinced that the roof had fallen in over us in our sleep. “Hurry up!” he said. “It’s important!” With my heart pounding from being startled awake, I rushed to the bedroom door to see what the emergency was. I thought one of his eye balls had fallen out in his sleep. “The TV guys are here!” he exclaimed. So, I headed to the bathroom. (Mamas have to take care of priorities, you know.)
When I came out of my room, two DirectTV technicians were standing in the family room. Pepe didn’t even bark as he walked out with me. Some guard dog he is. Instead, he wagged his tail and let them pet him. This is the same dog that hasn’t been speaking to me for the last two weeks from the trauma of the move. He won’t even let me touch him, yet he is letting the strangers in our house rub his belly. Way to go, Killer.
The men started talking to me, since Mr. Everything had not come out of the bedroom yet. They were trying to show me their badges and were telling me something. All I knew was that they were standing between me and my coffee pot. I just looked at them, and as I opened my mouth to answer, Mr. E came out. They immediately shifted their attention to him, so I made a break for the kitchen.
With my coffee, I headed to the front porch swing (of course), where I stayed as the technicians and my children and husband flittered about in the excitement of the day. I haven’t seen the kids (or the man) this happy in weeks.
The technicians and Mr. Everything stood in the family room, having a conversation about beams and local channels and Jacksonville, Tampa and Gainesville. From what I gathered, we might be getting a signal from Reno, Nevada or something like that. The were speaking a language that I had not hope of understanding. I call it “Floppy Talk.” I joke with Mr. E that it is the talk of technology and floppy drives. Luckily, he spoke and understood their language and was able to make sense of what they said. Mr. Everything ended up saying that he didn’t care where the channels came from, as long as we have TV. That’s pretty much the sentiment of all of my family, including the dog.
After lots of walking in and out and looking at televisions, we had channels again. I’m glad I got my kids to unpack most of their rooms before today, because I’m pretty sure I’ve lots them now. -Al