Screw British Telecom

Damn British Telecom. Damn Italia Telecom. And damn all the Telecoms of this world. It's such a stitch-up, as they say here.
I haven't written for a lot of reasons.
But the main reason recently is that I don't have reliable Internet access -- and won't have for ages. Weeks, even.
You'd think I was in Yemen or something.
Where I was going to go. But then didn't, largely because I lost reliable Internet access at home. And a landline with which to call Yemen to set it up.
And then my nerve.
And then the volcanic ash covered Britain.
Long story.
Back to British Telecom.
Who I hate.
Almost as much as I hate Italia Telecom.
We've moved to our new place in London. Which I love.
Even though it's tiny. It's like a doll-sized version of a house, especially for a spoiled American like me.
But still it's a house.
And I love it.
But no phone yet. Or Internet.
Been almost three weeks now.
You can't order a new phone line until you give up your old line.
So the day we moved, we called to order a new line.
Two-week wait for a phone, even though there's already a phone line here. And we had a phone. And a phone number, just a few blocks away.
We made the appointment. Then we made the mistake of calling to see if we could change it since my husband went to the election debate here in Bristol and I wanted to go with him.
After calling, we decided we shouldn't change it. Too risky. Really need a phone and Internet access. (Internet access two weeks after the phone. Don't even ask me why).
So I came back from Bristol after only one day.
They didn't show up for the appointment.
I cried.
Why does this shit have to be so hard?
Why do I have to keep moving?
Why aren't I just home now, wherever that might be?
Is it so hard to just be home?
I used to have a home. I used to have friends. I used to have a job. Why the hell did I leave everything?
Back to the Internet.
In the old apartment (which god, in hindsight, I really did not like and now thank god, I can just say it) you could crib onto other people's Internet access.
Here for some reason you can't.
So we're using a key, like at our side of the hill in Italy.
Which sometimes works.
And other times doesn't.
The line keeps falling. Which drives me crazy.
Which is why I haven't written.
Among other reasons.
Bigger reasons.
Don't-know-what-I'm-doing kinda reasons.