What Do You Mean There is No Internet For A Week?

This is the story of one girls heroic tale of a week without Instagram, Twitter and Facebook, how she survived, and her efforts to educate those who may find themselves in similar situations…

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I boarded the Carnival Magic with a kick in my step and a smile on my face, excited for what the week had to offer me, and then it hit me. No Facebook. No Instagram. No twitter. I was prepared for fun, sun, formal nights and long nights, but I was not prepared for this…

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Day 1:

Dear Diary,
Today I spent the better part of the afternoon writing and leaving notes all over my cabin for our steward to read. Appropriately so, I left room for him to comment below, circle like, if he found the note to be funny and worthy and an extra copy attached for him to take with him just in case he felt the need to share my thoughts with others. I race back to the room hourly for any new notifications. Fingers crossed for any written communication. As of now, he still only communicates verbally when our paths cross. Rude.

Day 2:

Dear Diary,
I keep clicking the Facebook button on my phone out of habit; scrolling down to load more, but sadly I see the same 7 Facebook status’s all day, every day. Thank you to Roberta H, Liz S, Debbie B, Erik A, Brianna c, Shelly P for your words that have given me soo much strength to survive these last 7 days. I only wish I had realized that my last status was it for 7 whole days. I would have said more, stalked more, given the people more of what they want…cat pictures. We never truly know what we have until we have lost it

Day 3:

Dear Diary,
Today I contemplated training one of the local birds we came across on Jamaica, to carry notes of funny status updates and beach puns back home to Facebook and twitter. but alas, I could not train the bird to “tweet” my messages in 140 characters or less. Back to the drawing board.

Day 4:

Dear Diary,
Last night I hit a low point as my husband awoke concerned that I was not laying next to him in bed, only to find me huddled in the corner with my cell phone rocking back and fourth murmuring #hashtag I can’t take this anymore…..I fear I won’t survive, my spirits are running low. Please tell my cats I love them..and should have never left their side.

Day 5:

Dear Diary,
Slight paralysis when eating as I’m not quite sure how to taste my food if it is not first captured in a Valencia filter and followed with the hashtags #yummyinmytummy #beefitswhatfordinner #nomnomnom #icanhazcheezeburger. In an effort to quench this insatiable “thirst” I have begun eating all the food available to me. My method is start on deck 10 and work my way down the elevator eating my way off this ship. I suspect others suffer from the same disorder, as I see the same people in line at every stop everyday. None of us seem to be full. When will this madness end.IMG_2364IMG_2423IMG_2365

Day 6:

Dear Diary,
If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Furthermore, if you go swimming with a stingray, and u don’t post pictures of it immediately on line for all to see, did it really happen?

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Day 7:

Dear Diary,
I really miss my cats. In an effort to cope, I’ve begun naming/talking to the towel animals. I tell them of our adventures in port that day and they, like all towel animals should, listen to my stories before settling down for snuggling with me for nap time. …later that day… Dear Diary, Hello again, I know I already wrote today, but something particularly distressing has happened that i feels needs documentation. My phone battery has not died in three days, I don’t know what’s wrong with it. First thing I will do if I survive this week is to take it to the apple store. It’s a good thing I bought apple care. :(

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A Bird In The Hand Is Worth Two…In The Dryer….

What better way to return from a blogging hiatus (sorry guys)  than with a touching tale of a woman, her two cats, and un-wanted house guest residing in her dryer. Let me start from the beginning

I was told when we first bought our home, that part of the ‘fun’ of owning your own place was being King Queen of the castle and getting to make your own decisions. For instance, If I want a hot pink wall in the laundry room, than hot pink it shall be. (I promise I do not really have a hot pink wall)

What they did not tell me was that with a new house, comes the opportunity to explore different career paths. For instance..

General Contractor/Repair Man.  Lets say you make your husband move the furniture around just one last time because you are just positive that table will look better just a smidge to the left, and he ‘accidently’ knocks a hole in the wall, you get to repair it..not a landlord. 

Plumber: in this instance, you find yourself in an unseasonably cold Texas winter, and while you are used to cold winters and pipes freezing in Indiana, your Texas house…and its brand new sprinkler system is not, and you find yourself outside at 10pm with a hair dryer, old new towels and duct tape hoping to thaw them before they explode.

Lastly….

 Animal control: This time, your comfortably asleep in your bed, its your day off and you have no plans other than to be lazy. Suddenly, as if you are a character in the children’s book “The Night Before Christmas” a loud noise comes from the other end of the house. Thinking its the cats fighting, you threaten them with the water bottle, again, and go back to sleep. Order seems restored, until it happens again. This time, you get a little more aggressive with the yelling and fire a warning water shot in the general direction of the noise and again, go back to sleep. It is then you realize that one of the cats has burrowed himself into the blankets, presumably out of fear. Now, slightly freaked out because you know the cats cant be the source of the noise, you get out of bed, change your clothes (because your high school gym shorts and spaghetti strap shirt are not proper attire when you have an un-wanted house guest..) grab your phone and head to the origination of the noise.

A Strange Sound Comes From The Dryer

 

Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes a 26 year old woman feel like a 5 year old girl faster than a weird noise coming from a what should be silent dryer. You better believe I was hysterically calling/begging/demanding my husband to come home from work and rescue me from certain death.

To kill time and to make sure there was a witness to my death just in case Matthew did not make it home in time, I face timed my mom.

A single mother with two strong willed kids, my mom is, of course, trained and experienced in hostage situations, and was able to comfort scare me, until my animal control specialist arrived home.

30 minutes, a pile of clean/dry socks and an extended grabber later, Matthew and I were now the proud owners of a tiny brown sparrow who thought it would be cute to slide down our dryer vent. She, however, did not stay long. Like a white dove being released at a wedding..this sparrow had better plans that did not involve being fluffed and folded.

 

 

 

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Blair witch All gone