Netflix came to my rescue today. Pedro brought the DVD upstairs and I mellowed out to "Must Love Dogs" (who doesn't love John Cusak, all awkward and charming?). Before I knew it, two hours had been magically eaten up and I didn't have to wonder "what am I going to do between noon and 2pm?" I was actually thinking, "this isn't that bad. I can definitely watch movies for thirteen weeks." I had visions of doing theme weeks--an Audrey Hepburn week, a John Hughes/Molly Ringwald tribute week, a foreign film week, a Woody Allen week...what a way to pass the time! The possibilities seemed endless.
until the remote control died.
Suddenly, all of my optimism and positive thinking went flushing down the toilet (did I mention that I've been to the bathroom at least a dozen times today? thanks for sitting on my bladder, little man). How was I going to get through this crisis?? A television across the room without a working remote control is just a cruel symbol of mockery to a bed-ridden pregnant woman.
I pressed buttons. I shook the remote (it worked for the Fonz, no?), I pressed more buttons. I took the batteries out and looked at them (helpful, doubtless) and put them back in. More buttons were pressed, until my knuckles turned white.
Finally I gave in and called my long-suffering husband who had already gotten me breakfast, medicines and lunch for me today. I hate having to do that. He works so hard, does so much and really, making a remote control work seems above and beyond the call....couldn't I just watch Food TV for all of eternity? I decided that if I did that, in the long run, I would make more trouble for him than simply asking him to fix the remote---how can you watch Food TV without needing a little nosh? If that's all I could watch, I would need a LOT of snacks and that's a lot of trips up and down the stairs for him...
So, my hero went out to get more AAA batteries; came home and replaced the deceased ones presently taking up space inside the remote. Pointed it towards the television, pressed a button.
Nothing...ummmmmmm.
Is it okay to start panicking now??? My visions of mini-film festivals in my own bedroom was suddenly transformed into images of me talking to myself and staring at the blank tv screen for the next 91 days. Yes, that's 91 days...
Fortunately, my husband is still a bit more in touch with reality than am I, and it occurred to him that perhaps the addition of the DVD player to the remote might have messed up the TV/remote programming. A few simple moments later....
relief. Ahhhhhhhhhh, sweet, sweet TV...
if only there was something on worth watching. :)
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