When we went to New York a few weeks ago, we scored ourselves a housesit at a friend’s apartment in Greenwich Village, a cozy little place on the top floor of a lovely building with a strapping young elevator, yay! It wasn’t until we got there that we realized it was one of those puzzling apartments you sometimes find in San Francisco and New York, and some parts of Oregon, apartments that for some reason do not have a television? Question mark, exclamation point?
Luckily since we were New York, we were so busy with the eating of doughnuts and street nuts and dumplings and porkchops that we hardly ever had a down moment to miss said television. But every once in awhile, I’d find myself sighing wistfully over the lack of a warm, glowing box to come home to. And by the end of the trip, the wistfulness had deepened into a longing not unlike the itch amputees feel for a phantom limb.
When we got back to California, the first thing I did was race up and French lick our television, clocking five solid hours of DVRed catch-up viewing our first night back. And then the election thing happened and we all of course had our faces smashed to the television for about five days straight, watching the map turn from red to blue, watching fellow Americans frantically wave their little flags, watching the Oprah mist.
The next day, in an attempt to keep the Obama high flying, I programmed the DVR to record every single West Wing that ever was. Which I think was about when I truly lost my mind. Marco started working nights sometime around then, and without a witness on hand to trigger my shame reflex, I started watching four, five…eight WW episodes a night. And maybe even one or two in the morning before work. Just you know to relax?
I think that was when I slapped bottom. Watching television at night, everybody does that. But tuning in before noon, that’s when you know you’re no longer in the captain’s seat.
Which is why, last night after staggering to bed at twenty-something AM after a another marathon binge, I finally decided I was done. For 30 days, at least. One month, that’s a respectable length of time for a cleanse, right? Something to be proud of?
So that means from today until December 20, I will not be watching any television. Wow, I wonder what ever will I do with myself? Besides become horrendously self-righteous, I mean?