No, it is *not* about my “temper”:

So: for the last several weeks (intermittently), our “landline” telephones have been doing this really strange thing, where instead of fully ringing, they “chirp”, but the cordless handsets won’t find connection with the base-unit.  OR, if htey do, there’s just this weir “crackling”, low-res quality to the call.

At first I thought it was a VOIP issue with the cable-modem (which seemed unlikely, but you never know).   NOW it appears to an issue with the (shitty/decayed) phone-wiring inside the walls, between the various jacks.

So, the “solution” (at least according the the tech-support drone from what whatever the hell our cable/phone/internet provider calls itself nowaays) is to:

  1. Reset the cable-modem.
  2. Plug the base-unit directly into the cable-modem (bypassing the house wiring/phone jacks, entirely.)

Oh, goody gumdrops — I get to rummage around, in cramped/poorly-lighted spaces!

First problem:  my wife has the phone-base plugged into the same power outlet as the refrigerator – which is BEHIND the refrigerator, approximately waist-high.


As usual (since my wife is one of those people who INSISTS on making poweer-outlets/phone jacks etc. inaccessible (by putting shelves/tables etc. in front of them — such that you need to basically MOVE HALF THE DAMN FURNITURE to even GET TO the jack) — well,  you get the idea. 😦

So then, I have to reach behind the refrigerator, and unplug *both* the connections — the phone jack, AND the power — which are (of course) both behind the refrigerator, at the stupidest/most counterintuive location imaginable.

So, my wife gets on this kick about how she sould do it, because her “hands are smaller”.  (Never mind the fact that — in many cases — her vision is worse than mine, or the fact that she would end up having attempt to GROPE AROUND BLINDLY with one hand — while holding the cellphone she was using to talk to the tech-support guy, with the other.

When I mention that, she does her typical “don’t treat me like an idiot!”, bullshit.  (Funny how literally anything I say — if I’m attempting to be helpful — is “condescending”, but….yeah well, I’m used to it by now.)

Anyway, I (finally) get the damn thing unplugged/disconnected (which is harder than it would appear — because the power-cord/phone cable were tangled.  So now (goody gumdrops), I’m finally at “step 1” of diagnosing the problem.

So I bring the base unit into the room here, connect the phone-cable into “line #1” on the cable modem (as per instructions from the tech-support guy), plug the base unit’s “wall wart” adapter into my power-strip, and — no power.  

Now, this is incomprehensible, because I had literally just unplugged the handset-charging base from exactly that outlet.

So, I end up having to crawl around under my desk (with — as usual — insufficient lighting or space to actually accomplish event eh most mind-bogglingly simple tasks) — all the while having my wife (in the other room), continuing to chit-chat with the tech-support guy/periodically inquire as to whether I “had it connected yet”.

THEN, when I finally get it all connected/powered — I decide to talk to the tech-support guy directly (rather than playing “message-relay” with the guy, and having my wife accuse me of “yelling at her”.)

(Quite frankly, that’s been her “go-to” schtick for the past ten years or more:  if I show the slightest bit of annoyance at ANYTHING, or fail to approach even the most infuriating task with exactly the sort of vaccuous, dead-eyed, grinning “cheerfulness” — she starts yip-yapping about how I’m supposedly ‘bad-tempered”.

Riiiiiiiight.   I don’t see YOU crawling around under the desk.

Fuck it.  I’m used to it.  I’ve come to realize that there is a double-standard  (me vs. everyone else).  For example: if my wife is “frustrated” (because — even thought she’s been visually-impaired for approximately 10 years, she still uses that as her go-to rationalization for — everything) — I’m supposed to simply allow her to shriek at me incessantly.   It’s gotten to where I just nod and smile and pretend that I actually give a shit.

Quite frankly, I think I do a damned good job of keeping my “temper” in check:

I don’t flip out at break stuff.  Nor am I physically violent.   Moreover, I actually tolerate her incessant demands that I “make a decision” (in regards to topics about which I literally don’t give a shit either way .)

For instance: in most cases, I literally have no specific desire one way or another as to the content of our evening meal.  I know she’s going to inflict some sort of pasta dish on me periodically (even though she KNOWS that I don’t really like pasta very much — which probably has something to do with the fact that my “family” subsisted on borderline-rancid pasta for OVER A DECADE, at (virtually) every meal, because actually buying other food on a consistent basis would have cut into my mom’s cigarrette-money.

I’m done “arguing”.  If people want to (mistakenly) think that I have a “bad temper” — merely because I don’t particularly relish crawling around under desks, etc., in a rats-nest of cabling, while being hectored incessantly about how I “don’t need to be tempermental” — fuck it.  I can’t even begin to give a fuck, anymore.

My response to everyone/anyone else is: Think/believe/do whatever the hell you want.  You will, anyway.  Feel free to believe whatever lies you want to fabricate about me, if doing so makes you believe that you actually “understand” me better, as a result.

I don’t give a shit, anymore.





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