India said she was going to hack into my blog and tell everyone that Jim bought a big, flat screen television. I decided to out him myself. For months and months the husband complained that he couldn’t see the TV. Granted, we have a large living room but we could have moved our chairs closer to the hideous one. Or get binoculars.
What’s to see anyway? Television is great if you like to be interrupted ever four minutes by adverts filled with amusing or insulting suggestions that you’re too fat, your teeth aren’t white enough, you’re using the wrong dish soap, you’re driving the wrong car, your penis isn’t behaving (apparently half the population has erectile dysfunction), you’re probably depressed, you need a better sleep medication, and if you’re a woman you shouldn’t take prostate medication. I hate the stupid thing. If someone interrupted me every four minutes to scream at me, however amusing they might be, I’d kill them.
After trying my best to distract him and thwart his intentions I realized that I was dealing with the reptilian part of his brain. I’m so glad I read up on that topic. It helped me to admit defeat and to understand that logic wouldn’t work. I demanded that he go right out and buy one (despite the fact that we watch only two shows on TV each week and we usually tape them to escape the adverts.) He promised he wouldn’t buy one of the really huge ones.
The hideous one arrived when Jim was at work. The box was so large, I wouldn’t let the delivery men in the door until they showed me that most of what I could see was packaging. They unpacked it and set it up. All afternoon, as I passed by the living room and saw that black box my mind was entirely in queer mode. I’d ask, “What can I do to you to make you fit into my world? How can I modify your essential character?”
Finally it came to me, a puppet theater! I would build a puppet theater around the Hideous One. When I told Jim, I thought he would be horrified. Instead, he laughed and said it was a great idea. Now that was a surprise.