¶ On Saturday, my principal computer lost connection with the Internet three times. Then again on Sunday, once. I rebooted devices and regained service, but it was a nuisance, and of course there was always the danger of losing unsaved work on the Web sites. (I find it very distracting to glance down at the connection icon in the middle of writing anything but the simplest email.) It became clear that the problem was within the computer itself. The real problem is within me myself. It is upsetting not to be connected. To be cut off. 

My genial tech supporter made some changes, remotely, and then made some more on Monday night, after a further loss of connection. So far, so good. I haven’t asked him what the trouble was, because I’m not entirely sure that was is the word. 

I do have alternatives — the MiFi cards that connect the laptop (which I rarely use) and the Surface (which I’m using more, but not for heavy jobs) from their stations at the dining table. But I’m most comfortable sitting here in the bookroom, with my three screens in front of the partially-opened Venetian blinds, and my capacious Aeron chair. 

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