TV is back. Which delights me. And disgusts me.
On Monday I was setting up the PVR with everything to record and at the end thought, well that seemed like a lot. So I went and counted all the recordings. One night. 7.5 hours of TV. You have got to be kidding me! To be fair, 5 hours of that was new shows that I thought I’d check out and see if they were worth watching again. I ended up just deleting them outright. And there was a couple Bal wanted to watch that I did not.
But still, I watched Chuck (love Chuck!), The Event (couldn’t resist any show compared to LOST), and House. I don’t even regularly watch House but I had caught the season finale last year and was intrigued by House in love so had to check it out. It did not disappoint though I think it will be one of those watch if I happen to catch it, but not record it shows. Hawaii-Five-O was on in the background too but it didn’t seem great. So I’ve whittled it down to 2.5 hours with maybe an hour added if I feel like being a TV zombie. Sigh.
Why do I feel like I have to watch anything? I had 4 fantastic months of watching next to NO TV. Nothing. We watched Wipeout now and then because it makes the family laugh.
What did I do with all that time? Oh how I read. So many fabulous books this summer.
As I sit here pondering what a freeing it summer it was not being stuck at the TV, I consider giving it up all together.
Until I remember Glee and Parenthood on Tuesday nights!
Grey’s Anatomy and Fringe on Thursday!
So now I sit here pondering making Friday night reading night. Just me in my PJ’s with a good book and a glass of wine.
Twenties* me is screaming “Lame!”
Mamma me is screaming “Heaven!”
There is no contest. Mamma wins.
Mamma always wins.
*This mamma is not in her twenties. Though her brain tries to convince her she is, her thirties body reminds her, after five** measly beer one night, that she is not. The next day is a write-off. But a write-off in your twenties means laying in bed with McDonalds and bad TV (and recovering from 15 beer- not 5). A write-off with kids means up at 6am, in pain, which persist the entire day, while they bounce off your stomach and make you take them places and do things.
Thirties write-offs suck.
**Five beer means four beer. But it’s just too embarrassing to admit that forthright. Sigh.