The phone rang as I was slicing steak for tonight’s stroganoff and it was a jolly phone tech, telling me that as the phone had rung and I’d picked it up, our phone must again be operational. He even told me to make sure the DSL light on the modem was doing what it was supposed to be doing before he rang off.
The culprit? A broken wire, which has now been replaced.
As grumpy as we were for losing the service, I am thankful to live in a place where things can be restored within twenty-four hours. HRH is probably already joyfully crusading on WoW downstairs.
The domestic drama has resolved. Life proceeds apace.
ETA: Our landlord just called, greeting me with “So, you’ve had some phone trouble!” Turns out he knew this not because our line was dead, but because our phone number went to someone else for a while — then someone different. The complexity of the comedy of errors perpetuated by the original newbie tech just keeps increasing in surreality.