Thursday, April 5, 2007

A remote chance~

I'm home alone. My husband's at a meeting, son at his girlfriend's, daughter at her boyfriend's. It's just me, myself and I. Yes!

I love being alone, always have. I relish the quiet, the lack of interruptions, the lack of raised eyebrows if I want to take a nap in the middle of the day. The lack of needing to cook supper in this case.

I did some writing, some emailing, some critiques on my writing workshop, and now I think I'll read. The couch is free, the spot I'd choose if my husband didn't commandeer it, and tonight I'm mistress of the remote.

I decide to put on the Lifetime channel--TV for women-- softly in the background as is my modus operandi when I *do* watch TV. My book takes precedence, but I'll glance up now and then when I sense a "relationship" scene.

This is when my time alone takes a downward turn. There is no one to yell to for help. "How do I turn on the TV again?"

I know that sounds pathetic. Especially for a smart woman. People tell me I'm smart; some use the words "you're so intelligent." But none of those people have ever seen me with a remote. Nor would I want them to.

I point the remote at the TV and click confidently. Nothing happens, so I aim more carefully to where I think the magic spot is. Nothing. I move closer and click harder. Silence.

I'm using the wrong remote-- there are four to choose from-- but I discover this mistake in record time. A sure sign of my intelligence. The real one is a little different shade of grey and just a tad longer. Part of it pokes out from under the afghan.

A remote is very systematic. It does exactly what you tell it to do. I still have not figured out the remote language for the DVD player, CD player, and radio-- which is called a "receiver" on one remote. But no big deal. For those, I just put my glasses on, get down on my hands and knees, and push the power button on the machine itself. Voila! Remoteless response in an instant. This irks my husband when he catches me at it.

I've pretty much learned the language of the TV remote, though. I point and click, and hear the electronic connection. The picture is on. But it's silent. I click audio, then power, as I've been instructed to do many, many times. But it's still silent. I push the up arrow and think I hear voices, but no, must be wishful thinking. Still silent.

Damn! I shut everything off and start again from scratch. The only thing that ever works for me is the shutting off part. Slowly, I follow my husband voice, delivering directions as I remember them. Silent picture. Double damn!

I debate calling my husband on his cell phone, but quickly discard that idea. This is one of those well-kept secrets that needs to remain well kept.

I don't watch much TV anyway. Who needs it when you have a good book in your lap?

Damn! How smart do you have to be?


Kodanshi said...

Excellent post, very revealing and funny at the same time. I love alone time too. Extended bouts of solitary in my room as a teenager never did me any harm (I think!) all those years ago. I’ve almost entirely abandoned television now, except for the occasional boxing match.

Good luck with those remotes! ;-Þ

monideepa said...

Thanks for a much-needed chuckle. Alone with a book, curled up on the coziest sofa, a ready supply of any type of chocolate, that's the life! I'm glad you put the remote away. It belongs at a remote distance.

monideepa said...
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