Reduction

There was a period of about a year after we bought our house that we had neither TV nor internet. We bought our house in May and spent the summer and into early fall getting it ready. Rugs yanked up, paint replaced. In one room I had to spend literally hours peeling off a vinyl wallcovering that had been painted. It was like someone had pasted balloon skin to the wall. It came off in long, stretchy strips or tiny slivers. No in between. The fixing-up period was a nightmare, but worth it in the long run.

When we moved in at last, somehow it didn't seem to matter that we had neither TV nor internet. The baby was content to watch the same DVD and Stacey and I had internet at work. Our nights were still pretty well filled with new-house stuff, so it all sort of floated by.

But then came the day when we decided it was time to get it back. In the TV-free stretch I had been reading more, occasionally writing since the computers were set up, they just weren't connected to the outside world. And you know, I didn't mind.

When TV came back to our house it brought with it a horrible truth: put me in front of the glowing box and I will watch just about anything. Dumb things. Things on Spike and G4 and sports that I'm not really interested in. I will fall prey to TMZ and Dog the Bounty Hunter and, may God have mercy on my soul, poker on TV. I become dumber. Dumberer, really.

Let it be known that I do watch some decent stuff. Modern Family is one of the smartest-written shows on TV and I think anyone interested in scriptwriting of any sort should study it. It's character-focused and oozes honesty. Structurally, it's stunning, episode to episode. I unrepentantly watch Glee. I get my fill of non-sensationalistic Discovery Channel shows and am a long-time Deadliest Catch addict.

Still, TV took over. I would sooner flick endlessly through content-empty channels than channel my energy to the page, or even just kick back to read with some music on.

The problem, as it turns out, was that we got a sweet deal for like $25/month when we hooked up with Direct TV. That sweet deal ended recently. As the price shot upwards, it pulled our eyes open, too. We were looking at paying too much for something that gave back too little--and, metaphysically speaking, cost too much. So we have recently slashed our services. Goodbye, Syfy. Au revoir, BBC America. IFC, I F'in hate to C you go, but go you must. We kept some kid channels for the kids. Boomerang stayed, so I can continue their classical education in the animated arts through Wacky Racers, Top Cat and The Flintstones. Food Network survived, which makes up for losing whatever channel carried my beloved Man Vs. Food. (Come to Boston, Adam Richman, and I'll take you to Boston Speed's for the best damn hot dog you'll ever eat. Call me.)

Tonight I watched Big Bang Theory, which, every time I remember to watch it, reminds me why I should remember to watch it. Then I flipped a bit. But with fewer channels, the lack of anything interesting was even more pronounced. Upstairs I have a wonderful book, The Dream of Perpetual Motion by Dexter Palmer, waiting for me. Right now, in the living room, the only sounds are the clack and thump of the dryer turning in the mud room, the too-loud snap of the second hand on the schoolhouse clock on the wall and the tap of the keys as I write. Ella the kitten is curled up in a ball next to me, asleep with her head tucked into her hind legs. There is quiet. There is no white noise backdrop, no eye-tiring flicker. There is space to think and time to write. There's a touch of clarity. There is the fine art of winding down slowly and reflectively at the end of the day. And there is remembering what made those first evenings in the house three years ago so nice. In a word, simplicity.

Now if you'll pardon me, it's time for a glass of water and a book in bed. Quietly.

I could get used to this.

Again.