October 14th, 2008

My husband was gone to training last week. When he got back, he asked me how much TV the Princess Monkey Toes had watched in his absence.

“None,” I said. Then squinted at the TV, “Wait, maybe we watched some on Sunday night.” He’d left Sunday morning. I was just hedging, though. I don’t believe we actually watched any then, either.

“When you die, the first thing I’m selling is that damn TV,” I told him.

The funny thing is, I hadn’t even noticed we didn’t watch TV all week. TV enters my conscious mind only under pressure from other people, who turn it on or talk about it or tell me I’d love to see this or that. Left on my own, it’s not even part of my mental landscape. It’s not that I’m better than anyone for not watching TV. God knows I have a thousand other ways of wasting my time and I’m not nearly as productive as an absence of TV in my life should make me. It’s just peculiar how deep my non-interest goes. My husband watches TV without me, as does my kid. I never watch TV without one of them (except earlier in the year when I had pneumonia and was too sick to read).

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