Wired and tired

*!@#$?& technology! Science was not my friend yesterday. Some stupid little splitter piece connecting me to the internet frizzled, and I had to crawl around under furniture and into dusty nether regions of my living room to find the spot at which the cable enters the house, unhook the modem and router from their spot across the room and wire them up on the floor under the side table, and monkey around with wiring while a superior-sounding woman from the cable company assured me that yes, all this is really necessary. I was so sure that it was their problem and not mine, but of course, that tiny stupid widget was something I'm responsible for replacing. Unwiring and moving and rewiring tech stuff is high-stress work for me because, although I'm generally able through trial and error and swearing to get things going, I don't feel sure enough of myself to want to have to do it more than once. But I did, and it's fixed, and I'm wired, and I'm tired, and I've had my tantrum and am uneasily at peace with my machines once again. Why do you suppose it is, though, that I'm suddenly having problems with my cable connection just weeks after I finally let my old dial-up back-up service lapse?