That would be frustration seeping out of my pores

So the internet at home is still dead, and this weekend there were at least 47 times when I was reminded just how much I have come to rely on this here network of wires and bytes and information zipping along at light speed. Sunday morning, the low point, found me and John on the floor of the gym in our building, laptops on laps, shamelessly freeloading off of some nearby resident's wireless that we were unable to freeload off from our own apartment. Because we're classy like that.