Having plodded through the third anniversary of Bug’s death, I inevitably found myself in the exact same spot I was this time last year. In bed, fighting off the plague brought on by stress, sadness and the germ-infested children I call my offspring.

I am nothing if not predictable when it comes to holidays, anniversaries and birthdays without my Bug.

After having stuffed so much kleenex up my nose that at one point I was eyeing the tampons as a more effective substitute and whining to my husband “I’m dying. I hope your next wife is healthier. And looks more attractive with tissue up her nostrils,” so often I’m sure he considered sending me off by smothering me with a pillow, I finally emerged from my cocoon of illness eager to get back online and back to my blog.

I had a whole blog post composed in my head about how my son made me laugh so hard at one point as I lay in bed that the kleenex I had shoved up my snout to staunch the never-ending flow of goop leaking from my sinuses launched from my nose like little slimy missiles and landed on top of his sock.

There is nothing like hurling bullets of snot at your son to make a mother feel better.

So after pouring a cup of coffee and trying to entice our lovely new puppy Thatcher to poop outside of the house instead of beside the bed where Boo inevitably will step in it, I sat down to compose the greatest blog post ever written about mucous, kleenex and children.

Only to find my Internet was not working. Confused, I fiddled with the settings on my computer, wondering if I had pressed the wrong button. When my screen remained blank I did the only thing I knew how to do. I panicked.

I slapped the router. I slapped the computer. I stood up, paced three steps and tried to calm down. I unplugged and rebooted everything. I panicked some more. Finally, after trying to rationalize myself into a state of calmness I called Boo, hoping he could solve my Internet woos and fix what was surely an obvious error of mine and restore my sanity.

“Did you reboot?”

“Yes! Nothing! It’s still not working. I have tried everything and I can’t get on the net!” I hyperventilated.

“Hmm. Well, you already tried everything I would have so I don’t know honey. I’m sure it will work itself out,” he stupidly placated to his internet-addicted wife.

“That’s not what I want to hear!” I snapped at him as though he was solely responsible for killing the Internet and bringing my world to a crashing halt. “I wanted to write today,” I half whined, half sobbed.

“You can still write. You don’t need the net for that,” he reassured me as though I was stupid.

“I KNOW that. But I can’t publish. I can’t talk to my friends. They all live inside the magical computer and without the Internet they are dead to me,” I cried, only a little hysterically.

“Here’s a novel concept: Go read a book.” Boo was oblivious to my urgent need to get on the net and tweet the fact I had no internet. He didn’t understand my driving need to check my favorite blogs or how with every minute that passed I was possibly missing out on my friends 140 characters of pure wisdom announced on Twitter.

“I don’t want to read a book! I want to talk to Danny! I need to email Mr. Lady. I’ll miss Chag’s Nameless Twitter Radio Show! I can’t check my email! I can’t pay the bills! My world is collapsing and all you can say to my pain is go read a freaking book?” As I spoke my voice got higher and higher and may have even cracked a little at the possibility of not being able to tweet to Whit or Will or Sweetney.

“Dear lord, I married a loser,” Boo murmured. 

Ignoring that, I suddenly heard the sounds of clicking over the line. “What are you doing right now?” I asked suspiciously.

“I’m surfing the net. My Internet is working just fine. And someone sent me a really cool link to a funny YouTube video,” he smugly replied.

“YOU ASSHOLE! Your beloved wife is freaking out because she has no Internet access and you are YOUTUBING? That is it. I want a divorce!”

“Ah honey, I love you too. I gotta go. You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Talk with you later.”

“Rat bastard.” What’s the point in having a husband if he can’t fix my Internet connection? Getting up to get another cup of coffee I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the hall mirror.  My eyes were a little wild and my face was flushed. I was a crack addict jonesing for her next fix. 

Sitting back down at the computer I eyed the router suspiciously, like it was the root of all evil. I was starting to shake. This must be what getting DT’s is like I thought to myself as I poked at the computer.

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head and the clouds parted and I could feel the warm ray of sunshine beam upon my head. I’ll call 1-800-MY-APPLE! They’ll fix my problem. They’ll care that I’m locked out of my online life!

Excited, I grabbed the phone and waited for what seemed like an eternity (okay, maybe 45 seconds but it seemed like forever) as I waited for the next available customer agent to restore order back in my life so I could get my next hit of crack internet fix.

“Hello, Jonesy speaking. How can I help you?” A deep Texan voice drawled on the other end of the line.

“Jonesy! I have no Internet. It died. I’ve tried everything and I can’t get online. I’m wasting away to nothing and if this goes much longer I fear I won’t survive,” I cried.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we, darlin’,” he soothed me. “Tell me what seems to be the problem and I’ll get you up and running quicker than frog eats a fly,” he said.

Jonesy may as well have told me there was no other woman in the entire world as beautiful and clever as I was. While he was asking me to go into my system preferences all I heard was “I’m a tall beautiful Texas boy whose single purpose in life is to feed you frozen grapes and click your mouse as you surf the world wide web of life.”

I was in love. Jonesy walked me through one possible scenario to the next, each time murmuring sweet nothings in my ear and telling me everything would soon be all right. He was talking me down from the ledge my sanity threatened to jump off and I was lapping it up like an internet-starved gal.

“Jonesy, you don’t know how much this means to me,” I gushed. “I’ve been offline since I went to bed last night and I haven’t been able to connect yet this morning. It’s killing me!” I explained as I waited for the router to reboot.

“Well ma’am, that must be mighty difficult for a woman such as yourself,” he drawled. In my head I knew Jonesy was probably playing World of Warcraft while tossing paper airplanes at his co-workers head as he thought what a twit I was, but in my heart he was riding to my rescue on a white steed, his massive bare chest glistening in the sunlight while his cowboy hat was pulled low to hide his brilliant green eyes.

A girl can dream, can’t she?

It wasn’t long before Jonesy had everything figured out. “All right Tanis. Why don’t you go on and try to get on the net now,” he urged.

Holding my breath I opened up my browser. Suddenly a heavenly choir of angels’ voices could be heard singing hallelujah.  ”You did it! I’ve got the net! Whoot!” I practically screamed in his ear. “Jonesy, you are the BEST!”

“Shucks ma’am. It was nothing. It’s what they pay me to do,” he modestly replied while I heard ‘Everything I do, I do it for you my beloved blogging lady love.‘ “You have yourself a nice day and don’t hesitate to call back if you ever need any more help. That’s what we’re here for.” (RE: I’ll miss you and I can’t wait to service you once again in your imagination, making your every desire a dream come true.)

After saying goodbye to my one true Internet love Jonesy, I called my husband. “Boo! It’s fixed! I fixed the problem and I’m back online!” I crowed.

“YOU fixed it all by yourself?” Note the suspicion. You’d think the man had been married to me for almost twelve years or something.

“Well, I had a little help from the Apple help center. It doesn’t matter how it was fixed, it only matters is I’m tweeting at this very moment!”

“Ya. So in other words some computer geek fixed what you mucked up.”

Bristling, I tersely replied, “No. Jonesy fixed computer. Jonesy did what you couldn’t do. Jonesy is a GOD. I’m thinking of leaving you for him. I always wanted to live in Texas.”

“Jonesy eh? Sounds like some dude who hasn’t ever been laid who is 5’6″, a little on the heavy side, with buck teeth and male pattern baldness. Have at ‘im.” Boo laughed.

“I prefer to think of him as a 6’4″ brunette with a physique carved from marble and twinkling green eyes, riding around on a white steed with a tattered cowboy hat, hanging off my every word and making my dreams come true.” 

“Good for you darlin’. You have fun with that. I’ve got to get back to work. Real work. Man’s work. Go be a mouse potato once again love,” he grinned before hanging up.

Bah. He may try, but nothing will ever tarnish the image of the pusher man with the southern drawl who supplied me with crack Internet to feed my addiction.

Jonesy, you will always be my hero. At least until my web connection is on the fritz again and someone else steps in to save the day. 

I’m an addict. I’ll stand on any street corner to get my fix.