My husband bought a new TV.
For some people, this might be a simple procedure. But not when you live with an audiophile. When we first moved in together, I agreed to cut down by one bookshelf if Min would cut down by one stereo system. Because he had THREE. In an APARTMENT!
For the last two days, there have been wires all over my house. There have been friends threading wires, electricians slicing holes, other electricians fishing wires through the crawlspace. My six-year-old son was even enlisted to blow-dry paint. I made two complete dinners Tuesday night to feed different shifts of helpers.
One room is now finally back together. (With a new TV that looks exactly the same to me.) The other room (which is inheriting the old TV) still looks like a bomb went off.
And through this whole process, I’ve been thinking about a Jane Urquhart interview I heard on CBC’s The Next Chapter last summer. She said her greatest fear was the loss of privacy. She talked about needing, and treasuring, times of silence and solitude.
She should be very scared of TV replacement.
I am. And if anyone needs me, I’ll be at the coffee shop.