On Sunday afternoon this week, one of our two televisions went on strike. At first it was more of a partial protest: the audio worked but not the picture. We assumed it was a Wi-Fi or cable box problem. Don researched, re-booted, and remonstrated excessively. We repetitively turned the TV in our bedroom suite on and off to assure ourselves that it was not a major cable company malfunction.
Don gnashed his teeth, and I offered consolatory words. With upcoming travel that will last two weeks, I told him we should wait until we get back from vacation, and then deal with it. In the meantime, this will be good. Instead of listening to political commentary and news during meal preparation, we will turn on some music. We can engage in warm conversation during dinnertime instead of commiserating about the Seattle Mariners leaving a runner in scoring position at the bottom of the eighth inning in a tie game. This is an opportunity, I thought, for enhanced relationship connection and less reliance on televised entertainment.
It was a great plan. But not having a second television in our house was unworkable after a mere four days – and three of those days, Don was away on a business trip.
When Don was back in town on Thursday, Don resumed tinkering with the TV. I unhelpfully mentioned that one of my co-workers had a similar problem, and that it only took 1 ½ hours on the phone with Comcast to figure out that it was a bad cable box. Don looked at me as though I had suggested that he strap the 55-inch TV on his back and hike to a repair shop in the next town over.
Then Don started discussing the age of the television and googled what its life expectancy should be. I protested that the unit was not old, it could not possibly be dead. Of course, I had no idea when we had purchased it; in fact, I did not even know what house we lived in when it joined the family. Wi-Fi, televisions, computers, and all things mechanical are under the control and management of Don. I am more of a big-picture person, like how we spent our time and money and whether it is time to clean the garage.
I knew Don’s path was diverging from mine when he started looking at TV’s on-line. He was amazed to find out that we could buy an updated model for one-third of what we paid for our deceased TV. Though he does not normally run errands on weeknights, I knew when Don made noises about Best Buy still being open and that it looked like they had what we wanted in stock, that he was headed out to buy a new one.
A more supportive partner would have gone with him. But my work day winddown was calling to me. The dogs needed their final yard time potty break, and my nightly beauty ritual – which becomes more complicated every year – beckoned. I made inadequate excuses about why I needed to stay home, which my husband accepted with his steadfast, ever-present sweetness.
But the truth is that I had television shows to watch from the comfort of our bed. HGTV summoned, and I was powerless to deny its command.