Sorry, I couldn't write a column this week
by Pete Cunningham
*As printed December 12, 2007 in The Homer Index  

Sorry to those of you who actually look forward to reading my column every Wednesday. The three of you will be sad to know that I just couldn’t find the time this week.

I couldn’t write my column because my main connection to the outside world was shut off. My Direct TV satellite was conveniently installed on the highest part of my roof, and in such a poor manner that it currently receives the face down on the shingles network 24 hours a day.

The Direct TV service technician - we’ll call him Stupid - told me he couldn’t fix the dish because it was installed in such a dangerous location that the company’s insurance wouldn’t cover Stupid should he fall while working. I understood Stupid’s hang-up, having almost fallen to a certain death attempting to fix the satellite myself. Stupid informed me that the company has a policy that strictly prohibits technicians from venturing to such dangerous peaks for installation or repairs. In light of my recent descent from said peak, having such a policy made a lot of sense to me. What didn’t, however, was why that same company had put the dish there in the first place? According to Stupid, they did nothing of the sort.

I can’t write a column this week because thinking about Stupid’s comments made me go cross-eyed.

That brings me to my next excuse. I can’t write my column this week because I’m busy trying to get my roof fixed. A thunderstorm in July sent a tree through the other side of the “dangerous peak”. The hole in the roof has yet to be fixed nor has my living room wall, which caves in a little more every day. I’ve been assured by my landlord - we’ll call him Lazy - that the situation is atop his priority list, which makes one sympathize dearly for anything at the bottom of Lazy’s list. In Lazy’s defense, my rent checks are always cashed in a very timely manner.

Speaking of Lazy, I can’t write a column this week because I’m busy relaying phone messages from him to my neighbor. This neighbor told me she doesn’t have a phone because she’s Amish.

I can’t write my column this week because I spent several minutes pounding on her door trying to relay a message. She didn’t hear me knocking because her radio was turned up so loud. Irony at its best.

I also can’t write a column this week because I’m too busy throwing away a fresh stack of medical bills. My previous insurance provider - we’ll call them Scam - refuses to pay their share because Scam believes the knee injury I suffered in February was the result of a pre-existing condition.

Of course, Scam’s thorough research into my medical history revealed no such condition when I purchased the insurance. As soon as the possibility of Scam having to pay a bill became a reality, however, being smart, good looking and humble suddenly made one susceptible to torn ligaments.

I can’t write my column because I’m busy sending Scam medical records that date back to my colic days. Scam claims they have yet to receive the records despite my doctor’s sending them four times over the past six months. Scam actually sent the records back to me once with a note attached explaining how the records weren’t mine.

I couldn’t write a column this week because I was too busy laughing at life. Take a second to do it sometime - if you don’t, it just might drive you crazy.