The Cable Guy

I spent the bulk of my afternoon with Dan the cable man. I know it sounds quite elicit but allow me to reassure you that it was quite innocent. As the cable was scheduled to be installed at Savannah's apartment between noon and one pm, I was apparently the only person available without anything meaningful to do. So off I journeyed with a purple Power Puff Girl comforter and a framed family portrait for Savannah's new bedroom. I admired my daughter's chic, sophisticated home. Just like Seinfeld, you get to buzz visitors in! This unfamiliar feature is daunting though, when confronted with the arrival of a service technician. I decided that I should just wait outside so I loaded up with water and cookies before searching for some reading material. I quickly discovered that, unless I was interested in learning how to train for a marathon, books were in short supply in this apartment. I guess Savannah hasn't had time to build up her library yet. Fortunately, there was a take one/leave one reading rack in the building so I perused my options:

*The Complete Book of Vitamins

*How to Use America Online

*I Don't Want to Be Alone

*How to Spell It

and my favorite...

*History of the Lithographers Union

As you can see, it was a tough choice. I finally settled on From the Pew to the Pulpit: My Walk with the Antichrist. As luck would have it, Dan the cable man arrived promptly and set straight to work. While he wrestled with wires, he explained the death roll maneuver of the American alligator and I sat there politely pretending I didn't already know about the death roll maneuver of the American alligator because otherwise I would have to take a walk with the Antichrist. Suddenly "Days of Our Lives" appeared on the TV. "You are the first thing I think of each morning," the angst-ridden female character cried out to the handsome but heartless man in front of her, "and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep." I laughed. "The last thing I think about before falling asleep," I shared with Dan the cable man, "is that I don't want to go to work in the morning." He laughed too. "I know...right?" he agreed before contemplating, "why don't they make a soap opera about poor people?" "That's a great idea," I said excitedly, "with plots like The Tornado Took My House...to Texas."   "How about My Skirting Blew Away and Now You Can See My Junk." "Oh...that's a good one! We can also do Perhaps Powerball Will Pay My Rent." Dan and I also collaborated on I'd Like to Move But My Hitch is Broken and My Welfare Check Ran Dry. Before he left, we changed the opening of "Days of Our Lives" to fit our new poverty-theme. We replaced "Like sands through the hourglass..." with "like ants in the sugar bowl..." These are the days of our lives. When Dan walked into the apartment, he was just a cable guy. He walked out of the apartment, a soap opera script writer. I anticipate an angry phone call from his company, forced to paraphrase Seinfeld. "What have you done to my little cable boy?"