The morning started with my usual routine -- get up, gulp a cup of coffee while checking email. But as I stared at the screen, no messages loaded. "Unable to connect" the screen announced grimly. Finally, it dawned on me. My wi-fi wasn't working.
An urgent call to my Internet provider confirmed it. The modem had failed, but a repair tech would be over to install a new one. The bad news: they couldn't come for a week.
A week without wi-fi? I may as well try to go a week without oxygen. Impossible.
As the day started, without wi-fi, I realized how every little task involved the Internet. What time is the next Muni? Who won the Giants game? How long do I boil pasta? What time is that TV show on? What's my bank balance?
But the week wore on, and a strange thing happened. Without the endless distractions of the Internet, I suddenly had more hours in the day. I found time to read real books again. I started buying the daily newspaper. With no wi-fi, instead of emailing friends and family, I used my smartphone to actually call people. I went to cafes, not for free wi-fi, but to visit with friends face-to-face instead of over Face Time. My wi-fi network was down, but my real-life network was stronger than ever.