The Internet came to our apartment around 4:30 PM this afternoon and, according to Mitali the sole remaining witness of the event, was heralded by the mechanical whine of the Videotron technician wielding a high-power drill in … my office. Somewhat to our dismay, in Canada, internet access installation can actually involve … well … installation. Without asking, without informing anyone, and, frankly, without any clear motivation, the technician ignored the presence of a wonderfully discrete cable outlet located in a sensible location along the back wall of my office, opting instead to drill a hole right in the middle of the wall, directly above the radiator. Apparently dissatisfied with this improvement to the decor, he abandoned this hole and proceeded to perforate the window frame with another. Videotron’s strict sense of aesthetic dictated that he then thread a cream-colored cable through the window frame and down my pure white office wall. Judging winter to be at least a month away, the technician felt comfortable nailing the cable against the radiator and winding it, in a final garish display of attention to detail, across my now saw-dust covered guitar cases to attach to the cable modem teetering on the edge of my desk. Mitali entered the room after breast-feeding Sonya to discover what he had done. He turned to her and in broken English said, “The internet. It is good.” Then he packed up his power tools and marched out the door. This is all I know. And after many deep breaths I can only agree with him that, despite it all, he was right. The internet – it is good.