The internet went out at the Inn yesterday.
At first, I wasn't particularly concerned. I had plants to water outside, and I figured everything would be working again by the time I came back in.
Well, that didn't happen.
So I tended to the linens, straightened a few things around the house, and checked again.
Still nothing.
I had planned to spend part of the afternoon looking for new fall decorations for the Front Desk. I've been wanting to bring a little more color into that area, and I had a few ideas I was excited about.
I couldn't browse for any of them.
I thought I might watch the cooking channel while I figured out what else needed doing.
Couldn't do that either.
After an hour, I was mildly inconvenienced. After two, I was getting annoyed.
And by the time I realized we might be spending the entire evening without internet, I was downright irritated.
Which got me thinking.
There was a time when I didn't have internet at all, and I don't remember spending my evenings wandering around the house wondering what on earth I was supposed to do with myself.
So what had changed?
Before Everything Needed a Connection
I started thinking about the things I used to do before the internet became such a large part of everyday life.
I colored.
I played games with my family.
I listened to entire albums, not just a song here and there while I was doing something else.
I watched movies on DVD. I went outside and talked to the neighbors on the front porch. I tried recipes from cookbooks, read magazines, and found things around the house to occupy myself.
And if I wanted to know something, sometimes I simply had to wait until I could find the answer.
Imagine that.
There was no scrolling through a hundred decorating ideas before deciding what color pillows to buy. If I wanted inspiration, I might pull out a magazine, visit a shop, or rearrange what I already owned to see how it looked.
And I certainly didn't need a Wi-Fi connection to sit outside with a glass of sweet tea and have a conversation.
The funny thing is, I still have most of those things.
There are coloring books and pencils here at the Inn. We have board games, books, albums, and movies. I have recipes written down and plenty of things I could make in the Kitchen without looking up a single instruction.
The garden certainly doesn't care whether the internet is working.
So why did I feel so stuck?
I think I'd gotten used to having everything available the moment I wanted it.
A recipe, a movie, an idea, a purchase, an answer to a question, or something to fill five minutes while I waited for something else.
There was always somewhere to click.
And suddenly there wasn't.
An Unexpected Evening at the Inn
I wasn't the only one who noticed.
A few of our guests were having trouble connecting their devices, and I could hear the complaints beginning.
Someone wanted to stream a program. Someone else had something they were trying to look up. Another guest had been hoping to catch up on a few things online.
I understood completely.
After all, I'd spent part of the afternoon trying to shop for decorations I didn't actually need that evening.
Eventually, I suggested we stop checking the connection every few minutes and find something else to do.
We still had electricity. The lights worked, the Kitchen was open, and we had everything we needed to make ourselves comfortable.
We just didn't have the internet.
So we made an evening of it.
I brought out the coloring supplies and a few games. Someone found some music we could play without streaming it. We talked, laughed, and spent time together without everyone disappearing into a different screen.
And for once, I colored for nearly two hours without stopping to check a notification or look something up.
I hadn't planned to spend my evening that way.
But I enjoyed it.
There was something rather nice about finishing one thing before moving on to another.
No shopping tabs open in the background. No suggestions about what I should watch next. No sudden urge to check whether someone had posted something new.
Just the page in front of me, the colors I was choosing, and the people around me.
What Would You Do Without the Internet?
At some point that evening, I started wondering what would happen if we intentionally gave ourselves a day like this every once in a while.
Not because the internet was broken, but because we decided to leave it alone.
What would we do?
For those of us who remember life before the internet, the question might bring back some wonderful memories.
Remember having a favorite album and listening to the whole thing from beginning to end?
Remember keeping a collection of recipes written on cards or tucked into a binder?
Remember calling a friend just to talk, or going next door because you saw the neighbors sitting outside?
Remember sitting around a table playing a game that could go on for hours?
If you're too young to remember those days, imagine an evening when entertainment didn't arrive through a screen and every question didn't have an immediate answer.
You might have to learn a game, make something with your hands, ask someone to teach you a recipe, or find out what the people around you actually enjoy doing.
And you might discover something about yourself in the process.
That's what interested me most.
When all those familiar distractions are gone, what do we naturally reach for?
Do we know how to enjoy our own company?
Can we sit with a thought long enough to understand it?
Do we have hobbies that don't require an account, a subscription, or a connection?
Are there things we used to love doing that we've quietly stopped making time for?
I don't think these are questions we need to feel guilty about.
They're simply worth asking.
Making Room for Tangible Things Again
One of the things I've been thinking about lately is how much I enjoy making things that people can actually hold.
A handwritten letter.
A printed photograph.
A recipe card with a little flour on the corner.
A coloring page.
A book with a favorite passage marked.
A board game that's missing its original box because the family has played it so many times.
These things have a different kind of presence in our lives.
They don't need to be charged, updated, downloaded, or connected to anything.
They're just there, ready when we are.
Of course, I'm not suggesting we give up the internet. Goodness knows, if it weren't for the internet, Sweet Tea & Sage might still be nothing more than a dream of mine. I've always wanted to own an inn, and while I may not have a grand old house with rooms to rent, I've been able to create a place where people can visit, feel welcome, and enjoy a little Southern hospitality, no matter where they live. The internet made that possible, and I'll always be grateful for it.
But I don't want to become so accustomed to being connected that I forget how to enjoy the life happening right in front of me.
And I don't want to forget the pleasure of doing something simply because I enjoy it, without needing to photograph it, post it, or turn it into something productive.
Maybe that's what the outage reminded me.
Not every hour needs to accomplish something.
Not every quiet moment needs to be filled.
And not every idea needs to be pursued the instant it arrives.
Sometimes it's enough to sit at the table and color.
Or listen to an album.
Or spend an hour talking with someone you love.
Or go to bed early because, for once, there isn't anything else demanding your attention.
Perhaps We Should Try It on Purpose
The internet was still out when I went to bed.
The Front Desk didn't get its new decorations, and I never did watch the cooking channel.
But I finished some coloring, enjoyed time with our guests, and had an evening I probably wouldn't have chosen for myself.
That seems worth something.
I think I'm going to start keeping a few more things around the Inn that don't depend on a connection. Not because I expect the internet to disappear, but because I rather like the idea of having a life that's just as enjoyable when it isn't available.
Maybe you could try it too.
Choose an evening when you don't have anything urgent to do online. Put the phone aside, turn off the streaming services, and see what you feel like doing.
You might be surprised by how often you reach for a device out of habit.
And you might be even more surprised by what you remember you enjoy.
As for me, I still intend to find those fall decorations.
But I think I'll finish my coloring page first.
Warmly,
Mika
Mikasa of the Inn
P.S.
Lady Staywell left a little observation in the margin this morning.
“An evening need not be terribly exciting to be wonderfully well spent.”