It's an ugly day in the neighborhood

So, my downstairs neighbor seemed like an okay-enough fellow. Sure, the very first night Lydia and I moved in, we could smell incense rising through the floor. And sure, he and his ever-present friend-who-stares-a-lot often sit on the front porch watching people parallel park. And yeah, he plays techno music pretty loudly, and the beats pulsate below our living room floor. But overall, he seemed nice enough. He brought Lydia a fan on the day we moved in, and he shared his umbrella with me during a downpour as I was crossing the street.

But for the last couple of nights, he's been partying, and it is, frankly, annoying as hell. I feel like I live in a dorm again, except that in our dorms, the college cleaning service had the unfortunate task of disposing of the broken beer bottles and empty beer boxes. The neighbor, however, leaves half-empty beer bottles strewn all over the now-grimy front porch. He fills trash bags with empty lager bottles and stinks up our shared trash cans, and then he doesn't even bother to move the trash cans to the curb on trash night. Lydia and I have maybe two very small bags of kitchen trash in those heavy-duty outdoor cans, and the rest is Downstairs Dave's partying refuse.

I don't really care if he wants to party. Whatever. But I want him to shut the hell up after midnight, so that I don't have to lie awake in my bed two floors up listening to yells and giggles, willing myself to doze off so that I can deal with getting up early five days a week. Does Downstairs Dave have a job? I do not know. His frequent reveling would lead me to believe that if he does, it requires little responsibility. Or perhaps he just functions well on very little sleep, lots of beer, and much smoking out of a hookah, which he also leaves on the front porch. Someday, I am going to put his precious hookah in one of the trash cans that I haul out on Trash Pick-up Tuesday, and then I am going to laugh as he wonders what to do to pass the time until he can purchase another hookah and 24-pack of Miller-Freaking-Lite from thewonderfulworldofinconsiderateneighbors.com.

I know it could be worse. It could be way worse. But for now, sleep-deprived as I am, annoyed that I have to wade through bottles of cheap beer to get to my mailbox, I will complain about it.

Nevermind.

I spoke too soon. Apparently moving one's modem to a high, flat surface does not result in sustained internet connectivity. I got home last night after about 24 hours away from my apartment, and the freaking DSL light was flashing away again.

Therefore, Verizon makes my list of Companies That Suck.

You have got to be kidding me

So for almost two weeks now, Lydia and I have had the crappiest high-speed internet connection ever.

We got our DSL kit about three weeks ago, we set it up, and happily browsed the internet for about three days before it started getting really slow and, eventually, spotty and unreliable.

So I called tech support about the problem a week and a half ago when I got kicked off the internet and then discovered that we had no dial tone on our landline. Our provider fixed the landline issue quickly, but we still couldn't stay on the internet for more than 15 minutes at a time.

So I called last Sunday. I was on the phone with Ronald and then, when we got cut off, with George for an hour. They both had me run through the common troubleshooting issues, and I cheerfully complied, thinking that even if the troubleshooting tips don't work, surely Ronald or George will be able to fix the problem, or dispatch someone who can. Ultimately, George gave me a ticket number and told me to call back if our internet wasn't working within 72 hours.

Five days later, the modem was still tormenting me with its "Screw you! I'm not working! HAHAHA!" blinking DSL light.

I called tech support again today, and this time I wasn't so cheerful. I brewed up a thoroughly shrewish mood while I waited for someone to take my call in the order in which it was received. Finally, tech-rep Jordon got the brunt of my "I'm ready to cancel this whole thing and I don't want to go through all the troubleshooting tips again because THEY DON'T WORK" spiel. So good ol' Jordon asked me where the modem was physically located. I said on the carpeted floor. Jordon suggested I move the modem to a table or another flat surface off the floor. So. I put it on the radiator, the closest flat surface. The DSL light immediately stopped blinking. The internet light immediately gave me a green-for-go signal.

I was stunned. And grateful. And feeling sheepish for being so bitchy to poor little Jordan. And more than a little frustrated that neither Ronald nor George asked where the modem was and suggested relocating it. Why, Ronald and George? I could have been using the internet this whole goddamn week, but instead I was just nurturing a seething hatred for your company.

I'm going to buy a small table on which to tenderly place our picky little modem. I imagine that once winter's cold forces us to turn on the heat, that radiator will not be the safest place for our internet lifeline.

In the meantime, I hope anyone who's not technically-savvy can learn from my inconvenience: a modem nestled on the floor may not be getting its DSL signal. There you have it.