A fiber internet company has been in the area and began digging up yards on my quiet, rural street. Whenever anything like this happens, I log into Facebook and settle in for the show. There’s always a random combination of posts on our community page that range from outraged to placating to exhausted.

It always goes something like this:

Harold: “Outrage! Angry emoji! Someone’s digging up my yard! I’m getting my gun! Landowners have rights!”

Dirk: “Tell me you don’t understand public utility easements without telling me, Harold.”

Janice: “Stuff like this has to change! Thanks Obama/Biden!”

Dirk: “Didn’t see you at any of the public meetings last year, Janice. Maybe complain to city council rather than blaming everything on presidents no longer in office.”

Bertha: “Not my presidents! Team USA forever! ‘Merica! Trump was ordained by Jesus!”

And so it goes. People eventually accept that the fiber company has a right to dig up their lawns, but they won’t be happy about it. They’ll continue to post the dead patches of sod for weeks.

A big packet was hung on our doorknob a few months ago, inviting us to sign up for the new fiber internet. I was about to toss it in the recycling bin when one of my kids snatched it out of my hands. They all got very excited and even though I barely understand the differences between cable and fiber, wireless and ethernet, I agreed that it looked like we could save some pennies and get faster internet. For what, though? I wondered. Our internet was already pretty fast.

It took a few weeks and then a nice guy came over and dug up our yard even more, cut a hole in my office wall, and installed a couple of new boxes.

To be totally honest, I can’t tell a difference, but the kids can. Nate is home for the summer and playing something called Apex? I think? And is delighted by the… frame rate? Refresh rate? Ben is on the e-Sports team and says he’s going to sweep, whatever that means.

The worst part was calling the cable company. We only get internet through them, nothing else. But counting our last house, we’ve been with them for around twenty years.

The guy on the phone sounded so defeated. “Is there anything we can do to change your mind?”

I said no, my kids were very excited about the fiber and the speed and their video games.

He sighed, then said, “Thanks for being such a long-time customer, Eric.”

"Oh," I said, not sure if I should bother correcting him. "That's my husband. He died a few years ago."

There was another sigh, even sadder than the first. I was truly ruining this poor guy’s day.

"I'm...I'm so sorry for your loss."

I thanked him, because I always thank people who manage to say something nice when I blindside them with my sadness, but this did not make things feel any less awkward. Finally, he wished me well and disconnected our account.

Rural Facebook is a remarkable thing. The dead patches of grass are already greening back up, everyone is quietly enjoying their faster internet, and they’ve moved on to fighting about fireworks (they go all month here) and whether or not the jet streams arcing overhead are poisonous chemtrails.

Meanwhile, I still feel really bad for the cable guy.

p.s. If you wondering why there are so many posts this month, I have no answer! Except I did write this one and schedule it before I burned the ever-loving-crap out of myself by sitting in the shade, so I guess we can partially blame the giant fusion reactor in the sky.