Could it be that it was all so simple, then?

A miracle has happened in flat 16C.

I spent the whole week feeling amputated without the internet, bumming along from cybercafe to cybercafe and then spending a LONG time waiting for the broadband guys to come and connect us. And then this morning, as if by miracle, I am connected to the world again!

It hasn't been an easy road. On the first day of hoping, I jumped out of our newly super comfy bed (thank you mattress pad for hugging me all night long and protecting me from the bacteria of the bed's previous occupants) bright and early to greet the connection man, who was booked to arrive between 9 and 11. I grew increasingly agitated as 11.30 came and went, with no sign of him.

I called the hotline people, who after 15 minutes of putting me on hold told me that the guy would be late. Oh would he? Really?!! He would arrive at 12.30, I was told, so I jumped in the shower to make him arrive faster. That usually does the trick. Of course while I am in there I miss a call from him saying that he will actually arrive at 2pm.

I swallow my rage, try to watch a DVD on my computer only to find out that its DVD drive is broken. I then launch a full blown housewife from hell attack on the flat. As I was scrubbing the windows, I notice a bunch of Chinese dudes on the next roof folded over with laughter, all pointing at me. I don't know if what they were laughing at was the look of fear on my face as I leaned out of the window on the 16th floor while balancing on the kitchen bar or the fact that i was actually trying to clean the outside of my windows in such a polluted city, but by the time the internet guy got here I was ready for some serious action.

He knelt beside the plug for two hours, not telling me anything but "there is problem outside". After 30 more minutes he leaves and comes back smiling, gathering his things and showing me how it all works. I spent 30 minutes jumping up and down with joy, flicking through all of the TV channels and chatting with everyone online.

And then, as I was shouting disparaging remarks at an appallingly bad Chevy Chase movie, it all went dead. I wonder if the TV is sulking about my insults when someone knocks on the door. I panick a little and open it to find an internet technician and my neighbour who is also my landlord. They book look pretty annoyed.

Turns out the internet guy has just snipped the neighbour's cable and rerouted it to our place. The cable is returned to its due owner and I just have to wait another three days for the guy to come and fix mine (not before spending almost an hour on the phone trying to explain the problem to the hotline again...).

And then this morning, as I get up to wait for the second guy to arrive, I switch the TV on and hey presto, it works! Some pixie must have come and fiddled in the closet during the night. I don't know how they did it though, check out what the internet cable closet looks like in this 'commercial' building!