A week in the digital dark ages
The silence in the house wasn’t the peaceful kind—at least, not at first. It was the heavy, expectant silence of a family waiting for a little green light to flicker back to life on a plastic box.
Last Sunday, I made a conscious choice to leave the laptop closed. I had things to do for Doodle Horse, meaningful things, but the energy just wasn’t there. Sundays are meant for the slow lane, a day to be lazy and grounded. Of course, looking back through the lens of a chaotic Monday, I sort of regret that extra hour of staring at the ceiling. I could have cleared the decks before the “World War” began.
Monday morning started with promise, and then the nightmare hummed into existence: no internet. In a modern home, no Wi-Fi means no work, no TV, and—tragically—no access to my current online book. We had a backup running on data, but with meetings looming and my husband’s workload, we had to treat every megabyte like liquid gold.
For a whole week, my name effectively changed to “Is the Wi-Fi on?”. I lost my identity to a connectivity status. My son began showing actual withdrawal symptoms from the lack of SpongeBob, and my husband was bored out of his mind (no Xbox games in his free time).
We used the data sparingly, watching the occasional show while web pages struggled to load and gaming consoles sat like expensive paperweights. It felt like we were rationing water in a desert, except the desert was our living room and the water was high-speed fiber.
But here is the honest admission: imperfection has a way of clearing the air. With the digital distractions stripped away, the house began to transform.
- The floors are clean and tidy.
- The laundry is not just washed, but actually packed away.
- The garden is weeded, and the curtains are bragging with a freshly washed shine.
It wasn’t just about killing time; it was about the absence of the “scroll”. We prepared dinner together. We ate together. Instead of being stuck in our own separate digital worlds, we actually had meaningful conversations. It was a digital detox we didn’t ask for, but perhaps one we deeply needed.
The irony wasn’t lost on us when the water went off, too. This was expected. We knew water would be a short issue during the next few weeks. Apparently, replacing water pipes involves a fair amount of accidental fiber-cable destruction. These workers just dig where they are told and do not care much for anything in their way.
Luckily, the electricity stayed on. Because being without Wi-Fi, water, and power? We might as well have moved into a cave and started hunting for our dinner.
As I sit here now, I’m grateful for the reconnection, but I’m also looking at the router with a bit of a knowing smile. I’m thinking about switching it off more often—on purpose this time.
The situation was a vivid reminder of our holiday in the Kruger National Park. Out there, internet is a luxury you only find in patches of the bush, and TVs are non-existent. Back then, our saving grace was our trusty data router and a small cellphone to keep the evenings alive.
That little gadget provided entertainment for my son and a way to share our holiday photos with friends and family. It has “saved our bacon” on many occasions, and we’re happy to have it in the drawer. But even our hero has limits; because it relies on mobile service providers, the connection drops whenever it feels like it. It’s a fickle friend, but a friend nonetheless.
We survived the week unscratched and in one piece. We are still friends, we are still a family, and we still love each other. We found our rhythm in the quiet. We learned different ways to spend time and things that are important but overlooked. Because we use the excuse “I don’t have time”. And maybe that was the point of this week.
