We bought a TV this week—the very first one we’ve bought in almost 17 years of marriage.
Mr. December and I assembled the wall mount and set up the TV, then sat back to “test-watch” a few videos.
I felt vaguely dirty. After all, for a long, long time I’ve prided myself on the fact that we didn’t have a TV. And I still long for the days before we even had a family computer, when the kids played together for hours with things like legos and train sets. I long for the days before “Can I go on a screen?” became the most-asked question in my home.
If COVID hadn’t happened, maybe we wouldn’t have bothered with a TV. But there’s nowhere to go, and not much to do, and crowding around a 23″ computer monitor to watch videos was getting old. We also use screens a lot more often than we used to: Mr. December is using a biochemistry course that relies on lesson videos and I often use short videos that relate to what the kids are learning with me. It just didn’t make sense not to have a TV anymore.
I’m warming up to some of the possibilities that come with this TV, though. Things like being able to lie on the comfy couch and binge-watch Netflix during a fibro flare instead of turning two slipper chairs into a makeshift bed in front of my computer. The TV is also two floors below the bedrooms, so it’s possible that Mr. December and I could even have a date night down there after the kids’ bedtime. When I consider how much money we used to spend each time we went out to a movie together, well, it appears that the TV may have been a good investment, however little I wanted it.