In my defense, I thought we could go TV-less for a while. I imagined a utopia of orange and violet butterflies fluttering around my head, soft grocery store music in the background, where I spent my time reading, writing, and playing Quiddler and Boggle with my husband.
But Dan, the husband with whom I had envisioned spirited rounds of Phase 10, practically rejoiced when the TV bit the dust. He has wanted a new television for a long time now. But our old school 25-inch model was suiting us just fine, a television not being a necessity anyway. Plus the technological industry makes its money through the use of conflict minerals and unfair labor practices (just an example of the guilt-ridden editorializing I would throw Dan's way whenever he talked about wanting a newer, better TV).
For the past few months, our television had been rattling every time we turned it on.
"It's just cold. It needs to warm up - like a car," I would say.
Then it started humming in the middle of our television programs.
"It still works," I would say, cranking up the volume to its maximum level.
The day after Christmas, Dan called me into the living room.
"I think we need a new TV," he said.
I blinked my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing double. The images were superimposed on top of one other, creating a rather colorful, psychedelic effect.
"Are you sure your video game's not 3-D?" I asked.
"It's giving me a headache," Dan said.
"Maybe we had better think about getting a new TV," I finally relented.
"Yes!" Dan exclaimed as though this was a century-long desire being realized at last.
So Dan set to researching high-definition televisions - "I'm an engineer. You know I have to weigh all my options" - which gave me an entire TV-free evening to read my dystopian novel about an impersonal, relationship-starved society created by technological advances.
He scrolled through web pages filled with tech-geek knowledge that looked as though it was written in a different language. He pulled out his tape measure and examined our entertainment center and current television. Then he compared the various lengths of the several HDTVs that had caught his eye on the tech-geek-o-sphere.
He returned to the sofa and sat down wearily.
"This research is overwhelming."
"I can help you if you want," I offered, half-hoping he would not take me up on it.
"If I need your input, I'll ask for it," he said. Then he quickly recovered with, "I mean, most of what overwhelms me won't make a difference to you. You'll just say 'That doesn't matter.'"
"True."
That evening, an enthusiastic Dan looked up from his laptop and cried, "I think I found one!"
Apparently ready for my "input," he made me watch a video review of the HDTV in question, most of which I didn't understand. One of the package deals included a Blu-ray player, while another included "Smart TV Apps" - "Like a smart phone on your TV," Dan explained. This particular HDTV came with about 152 remote controls. One of the controllers, the "Magic Motion Remote," worked like a Wii remote but with a much cooler name. And it came with 3-D glasses. This cutting edge technology was demonstrated by the reviewer who proceeded to place a pair over his own glasses and stare at the HDTV screen in front of him.
"Don't laugh at the nerd!" Dan admonished as I started to giggle.
He ordered the TV online, and, since it was in stock, the store e-mailed him later that day. The television was ready to be picked up.
"You didn't even have to talk to a sales person."
"I know. That's awesome," Dan said.
Dan, too excited to wait until I finished my post-Christmas ritual of writing thank you notes, took off for the store by himself, lugging our old TV out the door. A while later, he burst back into the living room.
"I'm here with our new Christmas present! I hope a 47-inch monitor isn't too big."
As I mentioned earlier, this TV included 3-D glasses. But the store was running a special, an additional six free pairs of 3-D glasses with the purchase of an HDTV. Dan couldn't resist. (We now own eight pairs of 3-D glasses.)
"I don't even like 3-D. It gives me seizures," I said, cranky due either to a sense of guilt caused by greedy consumerism or because I was getting hungry.
"Do you just come up with silly stuff to say so you can put it in your blog?"
He started to babble about a new cable for the Wii called a component video cable, with red, blue, and green components, three jacks for video, and two for audio. He told me that he bought an HDMI cable instead of S-Video cable, only one little plug for all of our video and audio needs . . .
"Pretty cool, huh?" he said when he came up for breath. "It does Ethernet too."
"Okay, I officially don't understand a single thing you just said," I admitted.
The other morning, I walked into our living room and found Dan using the TouchPad while the television played in background.
"Is this how it's going to be now? The new TV looks so good that we have to have it on 24/7 even though no one's watching? Or do you just really like Kelly Rippa?"
Dan reached for one of the 152 remote controls.
"The newness will wear off soon," he assured me.
