I’ve spent a good share of the last week geeking on technology issues. Moving internet connections in a smart house is a bit – daunting. You always think you’ve got it finished only to find out that the smart bed isn’t connected.
I mean, a bed? But it was not the last. The smart doorbell camera, which is part of the smart alarm, which is part of the smart home system was the final holdout.
Five times I followed the instructions on moving it to the new network. Five times total failure.
Then, like all other experts in the field, I decided to watch a Youtube video on how to do it the right way.
Let’s just say the Canadian version was the best. To paraphrase, “Yeah, put your phone in airplane mode, hoser, click on this even though it says it doesn’t work. Then turn on your wifi, log into your new router and she’s nothin but back bacon on the griddle. Don’t whine. It works.”
Then, because I had obviously offended God in some serious way, I spent a day setting up all my mom’s devices on her new network. She moved to a new place this week, and to say I’m extraordinarily proud of her for making the move ahead of it having to be done, would be an understatement. Took guts. She’s a tough bird, like her mother, and I sure love her.
But, that’s not the point of my whining. I spent six hours moving everything over once the broadband guy showed up to hook up her router. I have to say, based on my experience in the field over the last 22 years, that this was a slick, well thought out, multiple dwelling unit solution that takes fiber right into the apartment. We won’t be able to test dial tone until next week, but I’m impressed so far. Nice system.
Now, if I can just keep up with the updates on all her tablets/computers we’re going to win this round. Not that I needed a reason to visit her often, but there it is: we need each other.
Back to heat stroke: it was 94 today. Holy moly. I like driving around with the windows down and the arm out the window. That makes my tattoos too hot. So, I have a couple of sets of sunblock sleeves that look like tattoos. Rolled one of those bad boys down over the left arm, stuck it into the slipstream and viola: nice.
The trees are finally watered at 1937, and it’s time for Bosch on the old video machine.
Talk to you all next week!