There are some things about our 21st century North American culture that are downright pathetic.
We never walk anywhere. Hubby won’t even walk 30 steps to the mailbox on the street corner if he can avoid it.
We rely on Google and Wikipedia for facts and realities – or at least to settle our bets. And our “social networks” are actually electronically inter-webbed sites where we make “friends” with people we hate.
We have a new holiday shopping day (aside from Black Friday in the States, and Boxing Day in Canada) called “Cyber Monday”, whereby all the Black Friday deals are available for online shoppers the Monday after. It’s like the ultimate hangover of the frivolous spending that precedes Consumer-mas.
But there is one aspect of stagnant, Googling, material culture that is particularly dismal.
The remote control.
The lifeblood of the living room.
We are slaves to it. It rules our lives.
How often have you left some stupid show on because you can't find it? How often have you gotten all cuddled up on the couch and then cursed yourself because you forgot to put it within arm’s reach? And how often have you torn your house apart hunting for it?
Too many times.
And yet, sadly, Hubby and I have friggin misplaced it. Awesome.
Although we do have three other remotes (one for the speakers, one for the Rogers cable box, and one for the DVD player and Personal Video Recorder), these are not suitable for the TV itself.
No, I’m not kidding.
The Rogers remote is supposed to do everything we need, but because our PVR isn’t a Rogers PVR, it isn’t compatible. And because Hubby insists on surround sound speakers, the Rogers remote doesn’t cover those either. And, while the Rogers remote does allow us to change cable channels, it does not allow us to change the picture size on our wide screen TV.
So, depending on the show we’re watching (or its HD status) we need a different zoom-level on the damn TV - for which only the TV remote allows us to change.
AND, as ludicrous as it is, we have officially lost the damn thing.
It is not in the couch cushions, and it is not under the coffee table. It is not in the TV cabinet, and it is not on the kitchen counter. It's not even in the freezer. It. is. nowhere to be found.
So, not only are we watching TV on an oddly stretched screen where people's faces are either cut off at the forehead or stretched horizontally, but we are powerless to change it. We are at the absolute mercy of the current screen setting and not even the manual TV menu buttons will let us adjust it.
My dependence on that goddam thing is so pitiful, so embarrassing, so frustrating. Ahrg! I'm disgusted with myself!
Oh, please let me find it...