My television won’t show me my programs. Or rather, I can’t make it show me. Do you see this? ^^^ In the photo up there? This mess of remote controls? I’m sorry, but nothing in our modern world, where something as simple as turning on a television and making a program you want to watch appear on the screen, should require this much technology.
I fly jets for a living. Big wide-body jets across the ocean. I write this blog. I am techno-savvy! And yet, my television... Sigh. It defeats me most every time. I have to call in tech-support (my son—his bedroom’s closest to the TV room) to make Netflix appear, so I can finally get caught up watching Breaking Bad. I know! And I’m tired of being the last person on the planet who hasn’t seen all five seasons.
My husband, helpfully, even labeled the remotes: “Cable,” “Receiver,” “Frozen Vegetables.” Wait. See how confused I get, even with helpful labels?
Maybe it’s due to a childhood of actually being the remote control. “Kimmy, go change the channel.” Yeah. Remember those days? Remember when the choices were two, five, seven and nine? When thirty-two and eleven were the far-flung reaches, the very edge of analog video transmission? When the national anthem played at the end of the night or the Indian cried before the color pattern came on? When we had to walk barefoot in the snow for two miles uphill both ways—
Yeah. Life was hard back then. My kids can’t wrap their minds around the concept of having to leave the couch to change the channel. And yet, I long for the days of the one, simple On/Off switch, or just a television that required one single remote for use with all of its components, one I didn’t feel compelled to embed in plasma after several frustrating minutes of watching a mostly blank screen scream “Channel 3, Receiver” at me.
The husband says I haven’t mastered the television because I’m not really trying. Secretly, I think he’s right. Because, usually, there’s always tech-support around, someone to help get the AppleTV up and running or to make HBO magically appear. And on the days when there isn't, and I can't make the TV work, I know, instead of embedding the remotes in a television screen, I can always embed them in the couch cushions and take my own A City Mom advice: Go outside and play or Try reading a book. At which point, my television may still drive me crazy -- but only remotely.
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