Saturday, September 09, 2006

Take Back the Weekend

Dear Time Warner:

My old, undying foe. Well, well, well. We meet again.

Oh? You thought after last August, when I moved into my new apartment in near boiled heat that you had smote me? Because you teased me with appointments you would not keep, hardware that would not take and messages you would not return?

You thought because you had momentarily given me service, but not the ability to watch HBO-on-demand at-will or have my poor man’s Tivo record, and because you made it so impossible to fix that I was going to just be complacent about it?

Then you know me well, I suppose.

You are a worthy opponent. But I’ve got news for you. I was not raised to give up so easily.

You may break me, but you will never take my spirit. Because you’ve got New York in a vice, our veritable necks in a head lock, forever grinding your knuckles to our scalps in an ever-increasing fervor, you may think that you have my soul. Well you don’t!

Yes, you’ve robbed me from the last three Project Runways with your flirty little pixilation, your teasing of the opening credits of SVU only to go gray in a matter of minutes, your menu screen clearly indicating that you had taped Primetime Medical Mysteries when you had not.

You may have won one round last night, as us roommates drank too-sweet wine at a too-small table over jerk duck legs and boar sausages in blueberry sauce, we were giddy with our rage over you at Ivo and Lulu’s.

And this morning when my Fashion Week plans were postponed, because the prospect of slipping on ankle boots and skinny jeans before eight at night seemed impossible in the day-of hangover, I found myself face to face with you again.

Though I’ve got a weapon of my own today. It’s a sun-drenched afternoon. And it’s mine. From my balcony, shadows dapple the brick facades, boughs sway under the weight of a beautiful day, and I am getting my strength back. I am going to take back the weekend with my own little protest. That means sniffing basil at the market in Union Square, that means taking my notebook outside to create fresh pages of my novel, visiting the flower shop and fingering low boxes of wheatgrass, and giving Trader Joe’s the old college try.

You like that? Do ya?

That’s what I thought. Smug bastard…



Cheetarah1980 said...

One word for you: Satellite.

Anonymous said...

Here here! Take it back!!

Another twentysomething said...

I love unsnt letters, they allow writers to use a highly-entertaining voice for us readers.

Buffy said...

See, I would have thrown 'bite me' in there somewhere.