HBO Preview Sucks More Time From My Life

As if I don't watch enough TV already . . .

Saturday morning, I found my husband, Dan, sitting on the couch, setting several timers on our DVR.

We barely have the time to watch our "high priority, fully committed-to-watching" shows. Our DVR is never empty.

Our recordings are grouped into a "Becky" folder and a "Dan" folder, and I usually watch my General Hospital episodes every evening from the bathroom while washing my face. (Little known fact: I have been watching General Hospital since I was five. I don't care how silly soap operas are. Don't judge me.)

Plus, Downton Abbey just started, Sherlock comes back next week, and Portlandia returns in February. Getting through all of your favorite TV shows is a stressful profession.

So you can imagine my dismay when I wake to find Dan setting timers to record more television.

"But Becky, HBO has a free preview this weekend."

(We used to pay for HBO. We quit subscribing though because we were trying to watch less TV.)

I started to sigh, but then I saw what he was recording.

"Cloud Atlas!" I shouted.

I just read the book and proclaimed it (mostly to myself and Dan because I don't have very many friends) my favorite book of the year (even though it was published in 2004—I'm a little behind). A few weeks ago, Dan and I had been looking for it on Netflix and Amazon streaming.

"I recorded some other stuff for you too," Dan said, encouraged by my enthusiasm, "Behind the Candelabra—" I shrieked—"Six By Sondheim—" I shrieked a little louder—" Gangster Squad—" (eye candy, baby) even louder.


"Are you going to squeal after everything I say?" he asked. "I recorded Admission too."

Then we started reenacting Community because our lives revolve around television.

"Don't squeal. Don't squeal."

I shut my mouth and started to do a funny dance with my shoulders.

"Okay, go ahead and squeal."

And I did.

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