More than once in the last month, I’ve found myself telling people I just met, “I don’t have TV.” Often, this statement is met with a reaction like, “Why?” or, “Really?” or, “I don’t know how I’d survive,” or something else that makes me feel a little bit smug.
Of course, what I really mean is, “I don’t have cable,” which isn’t all that uncommon among people my age nowadays. I do have a television set, which is hooked up to a DVD player and a Roku, which is hooked up to Netflix. Netflix’s streaming service doesn’t have many good movies, but it does have plenty of television shows, and that’s what I primarily use it for.
So, “I don’t have TV” is just a more pleasant way of saying, “I can watch episode after episode of Lost without taking breaks for commercials or life responsibilities.”
(And, “I nearly put my fist through my computer trying to stream Syracuse basketball games last winter using my slow internet connection.” Oh, sports. The one reason I miss cable.)
Anyway, this is a problem. I spent my entire day Saturday at Pennsylvaniafest 2011–which merits its own post–and I was gone through 4 p.m. yesterday running, eating brunch, and watching football. When I got home, I could have cleaned my apartment, done some laundry, and/or read one of the magazines that have accumulated in a large stack on my dining room table. Instead, I watched Lost. For a few hours. And then I went to sleep.
My life is in disarray. I blame Paul, who pretty much forced me to start watching this show, which I had purposely avoided because I knew this would happen.
I need to go on a Lost diet. (It will be a good complement to the Lost workout that will get me biceps like Kate Austen’s.) No more than one episode at a time.
Maybe I can even try legitimately going without TV at some point in the future…but not until I find out WTF that thing was that killed the pilot in the first episode. (I’m still hoping for a dinosaur.)