My Sinuses Hate You

I hate to hear it as much as you do, but them’s the facts ma’am. I just can’t shake this thing. Between the allergy meds and the allergies themselves I’m still a wreck. It won’t deter me from heading to higher elevations this weekend, but it will certainly keep me from venturing in to work tomorrow. This is not so good.

I thought that I might venture to the evil electronics den called Fry’s with the father of my nephew for some retail therapy this morning, but that didn’t really help either. I did pick up a refurbished router for thirty five dollars (American) though which should help with my Lodge Data Infrastructure Project. When those certain folks set out in 1946 to build a tiny cabin in the woods do you suppose they might have imagined ubiquitous high speed data transfer throughout their little creation? I suspect not.

They might have speculated about that new thing called television, but please, transmissions all the way up to The Hill? Heresy! I’m sure that instant retrieval of the combined knowledge of the the world’s great thinkers (and hacks) only a button-press away would have thrown them for a loop. Commuter planes to the hotels on the Moon? Why not? They read about that in Popular Science every month, but might they have contemplated our data driven economy? I wouldn’t think so.

The computers in the cabin (yep, there are a few) are set up for dial-up now, but should a certain thing work out, I’ll promptly order DSL and connect them all together to allow folks staying there access from anywhere in the joint. Including me.

“A certain thing?” I hear you ask. Not yet. Wait for it.

Your best pal,

bob