Channeling Rick Steves

I've never been one of those people who relied on television.  Ok, retraction...I've never been one of those people who wanted to admit that I relied on television.  In fact, when I first moved to Seattle I was determined to embrace my hippy tendencies by not giving into the temptation of television, the convenience of a microwave or the pollution of a car.  That was until my mother came to visit my first month in my new city and her face went white as she scanned my apartment in search of my television fearing she'd miss the scandalous affairs occurring in Genoa City by not getting her daily dose of  Young and the Restless.   Reluctantly, yet somewhat relieved, we jumped into my Zipcar and headed to Costco where I made one of my first big girl purchases of a 36" digital flat screen television set and HD antenna.  Two out of three ain't bad I suppose.  After a few hours of connecting various cords, tweaking the bunny ears and scanning for channels, my eyes widened (and almost burned little) when I saw my first crystal clear image of a vibrant plaid shirt on a Bob Villa type home repair guy fixing a squeeky air duct.  

I was entranced with having such a lifelike image that I actually felt like I was dining with Tyra Banks and her gaggle of gorgeous  teenagers.  However, my guilty pleasure was unwinding after a long day of work by following Rick Steves around on his European Adventures and salivating to Lydia's Italian cooking on PBS.  During my days of unemployment, I became even more reliant on the creative shows on the Public Access Channel.  I'd rather learn to paint a soothing watercolor than become nauseated  at the sound of Rachel Ray's raspy voice and startled with every  pound of Judge Judy's gavel.  But can you imagine my shock last week when I returned from San Francisco (for, YES, a work trip) only to find that the full digital changeover had taken away not only my ghostly analog stations, but also my Rick and Lydia.  NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!  Frantically, I searched the web for answers as to why a person who seemed to be taking residency in my living room could suddenly vanish without warning.  Did I need "the box"? Did he find out I was cheating on him with Steve Carrell?  Why God why??  I weighed my options...pay $30/month plus installation to get him back, cope with my loss and substitute my love for another such as Drew Carey or  Bonnie Hunt (Gross and Grosser), or run a series of tests to determine if perhaps a more suitable location within my apartment would bring him back.  My employed self would have taken full advantage of the recession special Comcast was offering, but I decided the $30/month was better used for beer and was grossed out by option 2, so I settled on option 3.

Wriggling myself behind my consul, I unplugged a series of wires and cords and set on my diagnostic exploration.  I pondered many possible rearrangements within my apartment that would allow for optimal light, comfort and viewing pleasure, and finally settled on my West facing living room wall, in clear shot of both my dining room and living room windows.  Once placed in their temporary new location, I connected my television to the wall and my antenna to my television, searched the menu options before crossing my fingers saying a prayer and pressing the scan button.  After 10 painfully long minutes, the menu alerted me that it had found 17 digital channels.  I channeled up from 4, pausing briefing to explore the newfound Retro TV station, then continued on my way up to 9.  There was a pause when it searched for the signal, then I released my held breath when I saw the muted pink background with the beige swirly watermark followed by the voice saying CREATE!  

The next two hours was spent rearranging furniture, vacuuming giant dust bunnies and restring cords to their appropriate outlets.  The rearrange was near completion when, while pushing the consul into it's final position along my wall, it rolled over my antenna pinching and snapping one of the ears and my screen went blank.  I channeled through only to find that once again, the judges remained and my creators were gone.  I riffled through my tool and scrap boxes in search of any binding and conducting agents and settled on two paperclips and some Duct tape.  Using the paperclips as splits, I secured the two halves of the ears together with several rounds of tape watching as my picture slowly came back into focus.  It was like watching the faces of Michael J. Fox's siblings reappear as the events of the past slipped back into place.  Whew problem averted.

So for all you penny pinching recessionistas out there, ditch your monthly cable bill for some Duct tape and a wire hangar and set in search of your favorite television personality.  Even if you don't find exactly what you are looking for, the apartment rearrange is also good for cleansing the mind (and the spot under the couch)