This morning Girlfriend wanted me to play cars with her, so we played cars.  Racecar had all his friends over.  His mom and dad made breakfast, and all the cars lined up to wash their hands.  Then the cars had breakfast.  They talked about their dogs and how their siblings treated them.  Then all the friend cars had to call their moms and dads to ask permission to spend the night.  (In each case it was granted.  Car parents, I’ve heard, are notoriously permissive.)  Then the friends met Racecar’s dog, whose name was Rowl.  Rowl performed several tricks for them.  They rewarded him with doggy bones.  Then it was bath time.  Then each car read a book, and they all went to sleep.  In the morning, the moms and dads picked the friends up and they all drove home.  Then it was time for lunch.  For me and Girlfriend, that is.  The cars are presumably going about their own businesses.

It reminded me of when I used to play dollhouse with Mister Bubby.

So yesterday we became the official owners (possession being nine-tenths of the law, or whatever) of a Big TV.  (I was going to call it a Big-Ass TV, but then I thought, “You know, that really isn’t my style.”  Even though I was thinking it.)  You should know that the only TV Sugar Daddy and I have had since we got married was the one he got as a gift when he graduated junior high.  It’s a good little TV.  I mean, it’s really only “little” compared to the new Big TV.  It’s about, I don’t know, 25″?  Actually, it weighs a ton.  It’s old, you know, so it’s got all that heavy, bulky technology inside it.  Anyway, it hasn’t gotten decent reception since the Bush I administration, so we’ve really only used it as a video monitor, but it was perfectly suitable for our needs.  Until our needs became as absurd as the modern world we live in.

SD is a notorious technology late-adopter–I think that’s what they’re called.  He took forever to get a cell phone, to get an iPod, etc.  He’s also a shopping procrastinator.  One of the reasons he’s a shopping procrastinator is that he doesn’t like to make decisions.  Another reason is that when he buys something, he wants to make sure he’s getting the optimal price:good ratio.  Another reason is that he doesn’t like to spend money.  I listen to him when he tells me about his money-spending plans, but I don’t really take him seriously until he actually spends the money.  As much as he doesn’t like to spend money, when he does spend money, he is not satisfied to go with an inexpensive, stop-gap option.  We had this crappy (no offense to it) old TV, but it still worked, so we used it.  We weren’t going to get a new TV until we could afford to get An Awesome TV.  A mere Nice or Made-in-This-Century TV would not have done at all.  Why spend a couple hundred dollars on a Nice TV when, for a few hundred dollars more, you can get an awesome TV?  It just doesn’t make sense.  So there you go.

Anyway, Mister Bubby has been praying for the crappy old TV to die because SD also said he wouldn’t buy a PlayStation 3 until we had a new TV.  But it looked as though the crappy old TV would live forever.  It probably will, actually.  It’s still alive, you see.  It works just as well as it ever did.  But something snapped inside my husband, and he decided that it was time to buy both a PS3 and An Awesome TV.  Not for Christmas or anything.  In preparation for Christmas, because Christmas is the perfect time of year to buy people (not naming any names) games for the PS3.  So there you go.

The awesomest thing about the new Awesome TV–which is a Sony 46″ flat-panel something-or-other–is that it necessitated us buying a new piece of furniture to house all that awesomeness.  I have been wanting such a piece of furniture ever since the crappy-old-TV’s furniture house started losing doors and pieces of (fake) wood started falling off of it.  It wasn’t really bugging me, actually, until a couple months ago, when I realized that I was just really tired of having to replace the big piece of fake wood on the bottom every time I had to go under it to retrieve a video or toy that someone shoved under there (because every time you stuck your hand under there, the big piece of fake wood fell off).  So in the middle of a conversation about what improvements needed to be made to our home and in what order, I said to SD, “You know, I don’t really give a crap what you decide to buy first, but the thing that’s really bugging me is that crappy entertainment center that’s falling apart, and that’s all I care about replacing.  Replace it at your leisure, but that’s the only opinion I have.”  And lo, two months later, I find myself with a new piece of furniture suitable for housing An Awesome TV.

The least awesome thing about having An Awesome TV is that I have now entered the era of Worrying That Something Will Happen To The TV.  Previously, I never had to think about the TV, except insofar as it was working or not working.  I never worried that someone might throw a brick through the screen or dump Kool-Aid on it or put their fingers all over it or whatever because, you know, it was just a TV.  It was a gift from the late ’80s.  It did not represent hundreds of dollars we’ll never see again.  If anything happened to the crappy old TV, we were just going to replace it anyway.  If anything happens to The Awesome TV, we will just be crap out of a TV, that’s what.  For who knows how long?  Maybe for several more presidential administrations.  I look at it and I behold its Awesomeness, but I also see Vulnerability.  It’s like having another child in the house.  A very expensive, fragile child who doesn’t even love me.

I can’t forget the time we had dinner with some folks from church, and this man had an enormous TV in his sitting room.  Good night, that thing was…really really big.  I think it was one of those plasma deals.  Whatever.  It was a Big TV back when the Big TV’s were way more expensive than they are now.  I don’t remember how much his wife said he paid for it.  All I remember was that about six months into owning it, his cat peed on it and it hadn’t worked since.  That story made an indelible impression on me, folks.  Okay, two impressions:  1)  Don’t own cats.  2)  There are limits to the pleasure we can receive from material things.  Because it is so easy for material things to get peed on.  And you can only protect them so much.

So, yeah, I think that’s one reason why I’m feeling nervous today.  There’s an expensive TV in the family room that someone could metaphorically pee on by scratching it or denting it or otherwise maiming its awesomeness, and I just don’t think I can handle the responsibility.  Also, I probably have PMS.  But that doesn’t make the TV any less vulnerable.  I’m just saying.

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