jubilados in Mexico: CAJAS

When did life become impossible without the presence of this little blue box?

We were without a modem for only a few days, but we felt isolated from the world, and more importantly, from family and friends. No Skype, no e-mail, no Al Jazeera English, no blogs from the south of France--you get the idea.

Last week we took the modem from the casita to CableCom along with a copy of the deed to our new house and sat down at a desk to order a new one just like the old one. Or so I thought. The woman behind the desk handed us a flyer covered with pictures too small for me to see of tv channel ads.

Throughout the long course of our marriage, we've been without tv more than with it. Some relative would get a new one and give us their old one and we'd watch it until it broke. The last time we had one was twelve years ago in WV where the winters are long and hard. But when I found myself watching dead bodies being cut up in a morgue show at midnight, I said that's it. No more tv.

So when el sr J starting speaking to the woman in the perfect Spanish he can call up when he has a mind to about the different tv packages, I said to the woman, discúlpeme, vamos a luchar (excuse me, we're going to fight). Then he said to me, we can always change it, and to the woman, we can change it if we want to, can't we. And of course she said yes. He ordered the works, including HBO.

The installers were supposed to come Tuesday or Wednesday, between 9 and 11. They showed up Wednesday at 2. Luckily we happened to be home. One guy worked inside and one outside. El sr J suggested to the inside guy that the cable might be more unobtrusive on the floor, but he was a professional in a CableCom uniform so he put it where he wanted to.

The outside guy worked on this pole across the street. The commotion caused our neighbors, Franco and Rosa Maria, to come outside and then they came over and invited us to dinner on the 12th.