
Ah yes, January. A fresh year, a clean slate and – surprise! – no internet.
No warning. No text. Just digital silence. One moment I’m scrolling, emailing, maybe even paying bills like a civilized person – and the next, it’s 1994 and I’m waiting for a dial-up tone that never comes.
Turns out, my brother decided to just… cut the internet. Not a slow fade. Not a ‘Hey, I think we need to chat about the bill.’ Just click, off it goes – like he’s the Telecom Emperor and I’m the peasant who dared to stream Netflix without permission.
And let’s be clear: I legally live here. Not squatting. Not pirating Disney+. Just trying to exist without suddenly being plunged into total digital darkness.
It’s giving villain origin story. It’s giving ‘you’ll own nothing and you’ll like it‘.
And yet somehow, if I bring it up, I’m the unreasonable one? I’m ‘too sensitive? Babe, I’m not sensitive – I’m unconnected.
It wasn’t just inconvenient. It was strategic. Because what’s more powerful than controlling the internet? In rural family politics, access to Wi-Fi is the new sword in the stone – and guess who decided only he was worthy to wield it?
Lesson of the Day: In the countryside, family feuds don’t need battles. Just pull the plug and suddenly you’re king of the castle and master of the modem.

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