I came home yesterday. Let the dog outside. Threw my clothes in the washing machine. Let the birds out to play. Read the mail. Eventually made my way upstairs to my bedroom.
Something was wrong. Someone had been in here. And I couldn’t put my finger on it – which isn’t really odd because I don’t notice anything in my house. You could rearrange my living room furniture and lay odds that I won’t notice. Then I saw it:
Well. There wasn’t actually a dish in the room, but the new remote was tied up in a bow. My mother had gotten me satellite DVR for my bedroom while I was out of town.
I have been very cranky since the “digital TV” announcement because I have never had cable in my bedroom and my TV works perfectly well, thank you. Although sometime I should tell you about buying that TV and discovering that I had to go back to Best Buy to purchase an antenna because they no longer come standard.
DirectTV guy did not hook my stuff back up properly, so the TV is not connected to the stereo receiver and I can’t watch my DVD player. My brother is coming this weekend to fix it because he didn’t like the way I set it up last time. But so many channels. I was going to pick up that Solzhenitsyn book last night but then. On VH1:
Live at Wembley. I might never read another book again.