THE OTHER CAMINO
A BLOG ABOUT POSSIBILITIES
I have come to realize that few circumstances are more irritating than this one. Only half an hour ago, I had to stand up, walk to the television, locate a series of miniscule buttons, and then toggle my neck back (to locate the channel button) and forth (to check the channel itself), which has prompted this notification. This is how they did it in the old days, I remind myself. This is how my ancestors suffered, too.
For all I know, the remote has been missing for a month. I've been busy, for one thing, and for another, it's baseball season, and I'm strongly encouraged not to interrupt the W's viewing of any baseball games.
Yet today, I'm on vacation. There's a stack of essays to be graded, but they can keep until tomorrow, or Saturday, or Sunday night very late, or even Monday morning, when I'm frantically trying get ready for a week of teaching. It's 108 degrees outside -- at least according to my weather app, which is as close as I would like to get to experiencing today's weather. Three of my four pets are sleeping within arm's length.
It's the perfect day, in other words, for mindless TV.
And then W informs me that the remote is missing. It's been at least three days since he's seen it. I press further -- under the couch? behind a cushion? in the gap between the couch and the window?
I probe further: Did you maybe take it somewhere else? Outside, into the bathroom, into the kitchen? Did you retrace your steps? When was the last time you saw it? Has anyone else been in the house? Would anyone have reason to take our remote control? Did anyone attempt to make contact with you, was a ransom sum proposed? Do you have reason to suspect --
But now I'm being ridiculous. It's not such an imposition to walk to the television and manually change the channel.
Although it's even easier just to turn it off.
Paula Treick DeBoard