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Her Greatest Love Affair Is With Her TV
A Sad but True Story
I don’t think you’d know her if you saw her. You might be fooled by the blonde hair, the make-up, and the talkative way through which she can engage people in conversation at parties. But if you followed her home — not as a stalker but as a mere observer — you’d see how fast the quick-change happens, sandals to sock booties and blouse-and-jeans to sweats. Then she is all set for her date night with the one-and-only Television — the creation of her dreams.
It might not be such a problem if this was not the prime way through which she sought to interact with the world. From morning news shows to home improvement specials to the odd golfing tournament, she watches it all. And don’t get me started on the bane that are streaming apps. Her sanctuary has become her bedroom, all revolving around the flat screen and all it can convey.
Don’t dare try to interrupt the schedule, even though it’s now so easy to record and pause and fast-forward through commercials. You’ll get a stern bark of “What?” if you disturb the show of the hour. God forbid you steal one minute away from some celebrity who’s spouting interview blather. All you’ll get is an accusing look until you slink away, feeling stupid for trying to tell her the smoke alarm had started going off and you thought you smelled smoke.
