W I R E L E S S S O C I E T Y
How Wireless (Nearly) Wrecked My Marriage
By Joshua Macht
November 3, 2003
Guys come in many flavors--geeks, car freaks, metrosexuals,
musclemen. Me, I'm a wi-fi guy. I was so looking forward to
getting a wireless network in my home that the day I installed
it, I was as giddy as Bill Clinton at a pajama party. No more
wires! No more hassle! No more skulking off to the computer room
to do my business! Now my wife and I could work, pay bills or
check our e-mail from just about any corner of the house:
kitchen, living room, porch. And since we have two small
children, a mortgage and precious few spare moments together, the
wireless network was just the productivity tool we needed to
carve out a bit more quality family time. Or so I thought.
Morning came on the first day of my new wireless life, and I
couldn't wait to get started. No more walking barefoot to the
edge of the driveway to fetch a rain-soaked newspaper--and
getting an acorn or two wedged between my toes. Instead I jumped
onto the Web, touched base with time.com, scanned a few hot
blogs, checked out the competition and clicked to espn.com for
box scores. All without missing a beat or a drop of breakfast
cereal. What I did miss, however, was the screaming of an infant
in her high chair and the smoke of a small fire in the toaster.
That's the moment my wife chose to make her appearance. "What
were you doing," she asked, not unreasonably, "that you didn't
smell toast burning or hear a baby crying?"
By the time I formulated a face-saving reply, my wife had moved
down the hall to prep the little one for the day. Figuring I
would do my share to ease the morning routine, I took our son, 3,
for a spin online. He's a train fanatic, so we headed to
www.thomasthetankengine.com to play games, solve puzzles
and--whoops!--spill apple juice all over my wife's pristine white
laptop. Springing into action, I sopped up the mess before she
saw it. Disaster averted.
The rest of the morning went relatively smoothly. I downloaded a
song or two from the Apple Music Store, burned a CD and in a
matter of minutes was pumping Lou Reed through the sound system
in our playroom. When lunch rolled around, I volunteered to make
Monte Cristo sandwiches--first paying a quick visit to google.com
to search for a recipe. The sandwich turned out to be your basic
French toast with some turkey, ham and cheese. It would have been
no trouble at all if it hadn't been for the splatter from the
frying egg--drenched toast that laid a coating of grease on my
wife's clean white laptop. This time she was on the scene and
watched it happen. I'm Jewish, and the disapproving-mother bit
hits hard. Good thing she hadn't been there for the apple juice.
Something clearly had to give. The wireless network that was
making it so much easier for me to be online was also making it
harder for me to pay attention to my family. I was starting to
exhibit the classic signs of addiction--and, true to form, I was
the last to know.
That night we were in bed--just me, my wife and the iBook. I
needed one more fix, a peek at espn.com to get an update on the
Red Sox game. My wife, on the other hand, needed to talk. I
thought I could do both--listen attentively to the ups and downs
of her day and keep track of the action in Fenway Park. Then an
instant message appeared on my screen.
"Have you heard a word I've said?" Uh-oh. This wasn't coming from
a colleague at work.
"Um, I think I have," I typed in response. "You asked me where we
should spend Thanksgiving." My mind was racing. When did she
leave the room?
"Good. Something does get through," she replied.
"Well, yes, I heard, and I think we should go away for the
holiday."
"Fine. But disconnect this wireless network, or you'll go away
alone."
"Of course. 4 ever yours."
"Luv u 2."
"Goodnite."
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