Adikshun

I disconnected my TV cable about a month ago. Feeling pleased with myself, I looked forward to the many hours I would have to write, to think, and to interact with my fellow human beings.

Wrong. Didn't happen.

First, I received a gift of a Roku, an electronic box that connects to your TV and makes it possible to watch certain internet stuff on the beloved familiar box in the living room. I love Roku. I can watch Neflix streaming programming on my TV screen, see news podcasts, listen to music, and generally spend as much time on the couch as I did with cable. This, of course, makes my little dog Oliver very happy; his favorite thing is to snuggle up next to me on the couch, secure in the knowledge that I can't escape without waking him. He falls asleep, only moving when he has those odd little dog dreams that make them "run" in their sleep.

This season I discovered I don't even need Roku to watch a bunch of TV without benefit of cable. Both broadcast and cable networks are putting their shows on the web and you can watch whole episodes--every week. This provides me with even more TV than I had with cable, because my cable subscription was for broadcast stations only--no non-network channels. With my super fast FIOS wi-fi and my laptop, I can now spend my whole week watching TV if I so choose. I don't even have to sit in one place to do it; I can carry my laptop with me from room to room. But I won't, of course--or will I?

Just now I made a list of the shows I'd like to follow. OMG! Twenty hours' worth! NOT good. Hard to explain actually doing that without having to examine one's addictive tendencies. I'd like to get outside and do more things, but my part of the desert has been in triple-digit temperatures since June, with only a brief respite that was supposed to be our shift to the Fall season. It's not summer any more--just a"heat wave."A really long heat wave. The net result is the same: a strong aversion to going outside.

SO, trapped indoors. What to do? Clean out that closet? Organize that paperwork? Or watch pretty, well-dressed people solve all their problems in one-hour increments? I like to think of myself as well-organized and businesslike. So why am I leaning so strongly toward the flickering images on a screen--any screen? Could it be (horrors!) addiction? Is it possible that even when Palm Springs once again becomes that lovely warm winter playground for which it is famous I will still be trapped on my couch (or bed, or chair)? The thought is enough to chill my bones, even on this 102-degree day.

But there it is. That incriminating piece of paper. I really like some of those shows. Others are new and sound fascinating.

And that's how it works.

I think I need to get a life!