Smallest Of Problems.

Last night, a bit before I set myself to the task of writing this, I had an incident with the internet here at my place. It is ordinarily pretty reliable, which is a pleasant surprise given the nature of service when there are few if any options open to the consumer. There is little we could do but stick with what we have, and so we are fortunate enough that this sort of thing doesn't happen any more than it does. It's unpleasant.

Really what happened is an exceptionally small matter. The internet went down for a little while. It felt larger while it was happening, but the moment it was done with I could appreciate how minor the inconvenience was and how little sympathy would be extended to me even by those who know me and care for me the most. Certainly I would thinking nothing of it if it was described to me by someone else. I would unquestionably make light of it.

All it amounted to was an outage of an hour or so, and it transpired when I really ought to have been asleep. An outage is not to be excused by me as an inconsequential failure by the company, but it's something that I easily could have been unaware of forever. Instead it was a both because I was still trying to complete writing goals that ought to have been reached hours ago. My ideal day has that writing finished by 5 o'clock, but this was not such a day.

The only thing to take from this is that I can always stand to weather life's difficulties with more dignity and fortitude. It is disconcerting to lose composure even a little when such a small thing happens. How am I, I wonder, to weather life's larger storms when the little ones swamp my boat? Then again, I was alone when the anxiety of the trouble got to me, and so perhaps I can at least keep it to myself in the presence of others. That's almost as good as not being bothered.