That's right. . . publish one little unfriendly post about a seaside neighbor, add an innocent post script about pilfering her wi-fi service, and BAM!. . . the unsecured wireless network which you have been piggy-backing off of for years suddenly becomes a security-enabled network overnight, leaving A Mom on Spin walking her trusty netbook around the block in a baby stroller, trolling for another benevolent home which will provide the life giving succor so desperately needed.
Cruel, cruel, fate!
And I had so many more humorous blog posts floating around my cavernous head during this, my vacation week, along with countless non-beach-going hours to compose them! Not only did I have that nice little letter to Broomhilde to share with you, I also had beach advice for Shoobies. . .Trigger's birthday post. . .Ponzi in Tuscany. . . and The-Husband-Formerly-Known-as Drip-Dry's $4,000 car repair bill. . .
So much to say. So little signal strength!
So Happy 20th Birthday Trigger! Too bad you decided not to make the long trip down the Garden State Parkway for your big day, but your father and I understand that bra sales were calling. We hope you like the present we gave you - paying all those overdraft charges from that mean, mean bank. And don't worry, we're still going out to dinner tonight to celebrate your birthday. Without you. . .
Ponzi, the photos you've sent from your Italian vacation look awesome. I'm overjoyed to see you clutching your purse just the way I taught you - protecting my credit card from all harm in the process - but are you sure that the international phone plan we purchased allowed you to send picture messages for free? 'Cause, if not, we can wait to see your smiling face in the Roman Coliseum once you return home.
And Shoobies? You'll have to be left to your own devices for the week, for I do not have the bandwidth to teach you all of the beach-going etiquette you need to know. But let me just start by telling you that you should leave the street shoes and black socks back at the rental house and don, instead, something called a flip-flop, and sometimes a thong. . .
Until the next stroll around the block,
I will remain, my friends. . .
