Last Sunday night, right smack in the middle of the Survivor season finale, we heard a distinctive 'bloop' noise. Bubba and I were settled in to the couch, breathing easily after a couple of really hard weeks. We had changed into our sweats, snuggled up under a blanket, and flipped on some passive entertainment.
Accompanying the 'bloop' was a white flash that came from the television. The last color that passed across its screen. Although the sound of the show was still coming from the speakers strategically placed around the room, the television itself was black.
"Huh," I thought. Interesting.
"That was a scary noise," Bubba wouldn't look at me. Like he was afraid to acknowledge that this was something big.
The television (the gargantuan behemoth he purchased without my agreement or excitement just four years ago) was dead.
No worries. After a perfunctory check behind the set itself and a short ritual that involved turning everything off and powering it up again, it was confirmed. So we headed upstairs. You know, to the other TV. Where we finished watching Survivor.
"Oh well," I said with a twinkle in my eye and some seriously thick sarcasm in my throat,"we didn't need a TV downstairs, anyway."
Yeah, I knew how that would go over, but since Bubba started his own business and gasoline has risen to ridiculous heights, we've started to cut back on our spending, so it's not as if he was immediately going to head right out to Circuit City or Best Buy.
He spent the week traveling - eating out, giving speeches, finding the closest Starbucks, and watching TV in his hotel room. Okay, actually, listening to the TV in his hotel room while he caught up on his email in the evenings.
I spent my evenings reading a fabulous book and working on finishing the first draft of the one I'm writing. No television. No noise after dark. No problem.
Tonight, on Bubba's first night home, he managed to stand being downstairs for about 30 minutes after the girls went to bed before he suggested we go upstairs and watch some TV. I decided to humor him, but couldn't resist suggesting that we get rid of the second behemoth television (yup, the one upstairs is even larger) and get a smaller one that would allow the girls more room to dance and set up their desks. He didn't dignify that with a response.
I filled a glass with cold water and took my book just in case there was nothing I wanted to watch on television tonight. I pushed the power button on the remote and the cable box lit up. Rolling his eyes, Bubba walked to the TV and manually turned it on. The green light came on steadily for two seconds and flicked off with a click. Bubba's eyebrows pushed together as he interrupted his stride toward the couch to whirl around and walk back to the television. He pushed the power button on the TV again. Again, the green light. Again, flick. Half a dozen more times he repeated the same steps.
I couldn't help it. I got the giggles. He's pouting and shopping for TVs online. I finished my book and am shopping online for another one.