I hate when you see the Comcast truck pull up ten minutes before the three-hour window they gave you to install your, ahem, Internet and cable, and fifteen minutes later, no Comcast employee has appeared at your doorstep. Not even a phone call. Comcast dude, are you lost? Can I direct you? I don't even care about the Internet or cable anymore, I just want out of my apartment, where I've been held hostage for the last three hours, thanks to you! It's a beautiful day, and I have walks to take, people to watch, freckles to develop!
Sidenote: Thank you, kind generous neighbor, for your wireless Internet access. It's kept me sane this last week and a half. Although I did consider stealing from you until you blocked me or threatened me, I chose not to, out of respect for you. You're quiet, and I appreciate that. And I'm sorry if I play of Montreal's Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies loudly every night while I fix dinner, but it's a long album and I can't bring myself to listen to a spoken play called "The Cause of Gauze" without a little distraction.