video killed the radio star

I realized this weekend that I have gone 4.5 months with no TV.  I've got internet, a stack of DVDs, and a RedBox just across the street, but there is really nothing that compares with the comforting brainlessness of good old fashioned channel-surfing.  I miss it. 

I really really missed it last night when I returned home in a blue funk and longed to flop down in the couch and watch some Travel Channel.  Or Bravo.  Or heck, even just some regular old network programming.  I could have read a book or gotten started on that painting I keep meaning to start, or get to work on the Shark-O-Week preparations.  But no.  I just sulked in front of my laptop at the dining room table, too lazy to even rig up the cables that would have allowed me to at least project some YouTube or Hulu onto my tv screen.

The funk came over me after a frustrating afternoon, the frenzied departure of a frantic Hubs who really needed to do more work while he was home but didn't get a chance because of plans I had made, an anxious little dog who needed comforting and reassurance that Hubs would come back again next weekend, and the well- intentioned but tragically misguided selection of movie to go to with some friends.  We went to the International Film Festival and saw a brilliant but shockingly bleak movie about a kid who pretends to have cancer.  Excellent film, just incredibly difficult to watch.

So, when I got home from said film, all I wanted to do was sit on the couch and watch reruns of Friends or Project Runway or Ace of Cakes or something.  Anything!  Or 5 things at once! 

Yeah, yeah, I should have prayed or read some Bible or something.  But man, sometimes I just miss lame TV.  A lot.