On Saturday, Petr found a rat hiding in the closet of the new place.

On Sunday I set four traps.

On Tuesday, I found the rat, dead in the one I set by the furnace. The animal did not appear to suffer, as the trap bar landed directly across the brain pan. Happily, there was no mess, apart from the rat’s body.

However, there are little bits of rat poop through out the house now. Yick.

In other news, Qwest has finally completed the telephone services migration. Tomorrow, my ISP claims they will show up to configure the router. I’ll believe that when I see it.

I took the whybark.com server apart tonight in anticipation of a physical move tomorrow. I expect to configure it Saturday. I sure hope the damn line is up.

Sigh.

On October 27, Qwest disconnected our phone and connected the new line, with a new number, at the new house. I moved the Qwest-provided router to the house and plugged it in, and the router illuminates to a state indicating connectivity.

On November 1, I called Qwest to get our old number restored in the new location. We had to wait until the new POTS number rang through in order to allow them to merely transfer the extant services rather than end and start anew, or so I was told. On November 2, I was told when I placed this second call, the old number would be effective in the new locale. Instead, the new line yields a “this number has been changed” message whilst the old number remains disconnected.

Today I was told that the old number will actually be restored on November 7.

Meanwhile, I placed a call to my ISP, which is not Qwest, and requested that they assign the IPs so that I can get my server online at the new house. I have now called them every morning for three days, and each time I get a different story about the expected delivery date and required actions from them to deliver the service. All I need from them is six IP addresses. They refuse to release these to me until a technician has made a site visit and configured a brand new, quite unnecessary, router.

This morning I was assured that the technician would be on site this afternoon, and that I would get a call from the technician when they were on site. I was hoping to intercept them and get the IPs directly in order to get the whole ridiculous mummery show over with on the sly. I don’t need or want a new router. I didn’t want or need the last new router. I believe that there must be some way to force the ISP to buy the Qwest-provided router from me. However, my intention is just to reconfigure the Qwest router to match their setup and swap it back so I can stick their junk on the shelf with ALL MY OTHER DAMN ROUTERS.

I have argued.

I have pleaded.

I have been reasonable.

I will call them once more in the morning. After that, I will no longer be reasonable or patient.

For the first time in several days, I did not spend the immediate four hours after work at the new house. Doing so afforded me the following learning experiences:

The wine store remains out of stock on the Swiss white I hunger for since a teen, grown on the shores of Lake Geneva and dry as sandpaper.

I shall dearly miss our current abode, as despite transitory challenges f the neighborhood’s fortunes, it truly is the only home I’ve ever loved. Restoring the new place in the manner of a 1920s take on an 1880s stately home is clearly not something I have the stomach for. Goodbye, box beams.

I, personally, employ flexible and polar definitions of the terms “east” and “west.”

A neighbor at the apartment has a kindly open wifi node.

Love is a burning thing.

Our old telephone number, promised to be reactivated by today, remains disco.

We’ve found yet another salvage store, this one much closer by than the other and offering a wider inventory selection and better prices to boot. We did not locate a used shop table yet, though.

I met our rear neighbor, who bought at about the same time we did. He’s about our age and will be living in the home with his elementary-aged daughter. He seemed sympatico and I look forward to getting to know him better.