So, an AT&T tech came out this afternoon to assess the situation. And because I’ve been gone for a week, our house is a wreck. We haven’t had a chance to change the cat boxes, and there’s tufts of dog fur floating around the hardwoods downstairs. So I was mortally embarassed to allow the man into my home. Also, all of my internal tests last night (and prior experience with exactly these symptoms a month ago) have me at about 99.9% sure the problem is outside. So when he called, I told him I wasn’t actually at the house (my truck is parked across the street by the woods, since Andrea had to use the whole driveway to unload stuff from her car last night). He said he could check from outside, and if he needs to get inside, I can reschedule.
As I write this, I'm watching him on my security cameras as he walks around to the various phone company related boxes scattered here and there, working on the problem. And just a moment ago, he stepped in an anthill and reacted as anyone would (poorly), dancing a bit and brushing ants off his pant leg.
The entire point of this post: I have never, ever in my life felt more like a Bond villain than I do right now.