You see, several months back, we were doing this Dave Ramsey course that seemed almost as promising as those MAKE $$$ WORKING FROM HOME! ads. So we decided to sell some of our belongings in an effort to
So when we sold the TV, we got rid of the one in our bedroom. And we didn't replace it.
No, maybe you don't understand. WE DON'T HAVE A TV IN THE BEDROOM. Do you see, now?
YEAH. I KNOW. It's crazy. And especially so because my husband and I? We are not this couple:
In fact, we are more like THIS couple:
But I think the theory is that when you REMOVE that TV from your bedroom, you're more or less supposed to turn into that couple above. Or, like, people start giving you honorary degrees or something. Because why ELSE would you get rid of a damn TV in your godforsaken bedroom?
Well, the "benefits", sure. And I think those are supposed to be something like:
- More sex!
- It's easier and faster to fall asleep, and presumably when you fall asleep, you then dream about buckyballs and unicorns instead of some weird dude from Twitter stealing your cat and making a cameo appearance on CSI: Miami.
- Less anxiety (because, HELLO, Dateline murder specials, I'm talking to YOU)
- More time for reading, crosswords, learning a third language, and searching the Internet for ways to stream your NEIGHBOR'S cable onto your smartphone.
- I guess you can like, talk to each other or something, too.
But, like I said, after all this talk of my reality TV obsession and my renewed longing for that lovely TV to come back to my bedroom, I'm realizing that we have not seen those results. I mean, I think I read one book. But I can't even remember what it was...OH WAIT. It was The Hunger Game series. Which, you know, is like WAY intellectual. In fact, our typical evenings now consist of the following:
- More thinking about having sex, but mostly more proclamations of BUT I'M TOO FUCKING TIRED! Do you even SEE what time it is?! WE ARE NO SPRING CHICKENS, DARLING.
- Husband and I RACING to fall asleep first so that we don't have to be the ones challenged to do so while the other is SNORING HIS/HER RESPECTIVE FACE OFF. He always wins. This means that I lay there alternating between plotting his murder and cursing at the cat because someone has got to feel my wrath.
- I no longer feel anxious about a particular manner by which a sociopath will break into my house and slay my family, but I DO now hear odd noises in the night and spend many hours willfully denying the existence of ghosts. (I hear that they show themselves only to believers and to those who lay in bed at night with heart palpitations, thinking for a brief second, that OHGOD, I FEEL SOMEONE WATCHING ME THROUGH MY CLOSED EYELIDS.)
- We covered my reading material, I believe. And I mentioned smartphone, right? Yeah, HI CHECKING TWITTER COMPULSIVELY. I notice that my Twitter use is kind of like cooking popcorn. Once the updates slow to like one or two every three seconds, you know that shit's done.
- Talk? Eh, I'm tired. Let's just go to bed.
Oh, god. I just realized something. We actually DON'T do much talking at all, because you know why? Because HUSBAND is usually wearing his damn EARBUDS. So he doesn't disturb me.
(Because he listens to NPR.
And books on tape.
And YouTube videos about how to deal with a neurotic wife.)
He's really kind of ruining this whole experiment thing for me.