Friday evening, I discovered that Allan Armadale had made an excellent start on chewing through the router's power cord. Thanks to his fine contribution, I lost all home internet access until this afternoon. My students were strangely unimpressed by this excuse, no doubt because it sounds vaguely reminiscent of the dog eating one's homework; the tech who delivered my new power cord thought it was hilarious, so at least someone was entertained. I wasn't entertained, but then, my views are not paramount in this household.
Now, it occurs to me that my momentarily unwired situation no doubt calls for one of those trendy thinkpieces about how being disconnected enabled me to Find Myself Again and to Experience the True Meaning of Life and to Slow Down and Enjoy the Everyday Pleasures of Living. I will concede that I did do a fair amount of reading and writing, no doubt to the great joy of my editor. But, you know...
...I didn't Find Myself Again, because I wasn't lost;
I'm old enough to think that life doesn't have a True Meaning;
and personally, I would enjoy the Everyday Pleasures of Life more if I had access to a reliable weather report.
Similarly. Much of the apparatus for doing scholarly work is now online. Want to check a reference? Look up something in a database? Reread something in GoogleBooks? Can't do any of that without internet access. My writing would have proceeded more quickly if I could have accessed primary and secondary materials from home. How about grading those student papers that you collected in an electronic dropbox, the better to save the trees? Can't do that without the internet either. (OK, I'm sure many of my academic readers wouldn't be in mourning about that.) What about something basic, like transferring your work from one computer to another via the fluffy cloud? Nope--time to revisit the thumb drive.
Perhaps, come to think of it, I did Find Myself: I found myself wishing that I had internet access so I could continue doing those things I wanted or needed to do.