The other night I was tired down to the bones, and headed to the basement. I grabbed the flannel plaid blanket (the one good Valentine's present I've given Sam in lo these many years). I turned on the TV and turned off my brain.
So, it's been a while since we joined the Netflix. I do love Netflix, very much. I love it for all the reasons that other people love it: binge-watching on my schedule, pausing, fast-forwarding, no commercials. I love repeating an episode if I fell asleep the last time. I love finding a new show based on what I have watched before. And so forth.
But the other night I turned on the actual television. Yeah, like the dinosaur kind of TV where you skip through channels, watching 5 minutes of one show, and 7 minutes of the next. I endured commercials and weather updates, commercials and news teasers. Finally I landed on a rerun of Friends. I settled deeper into the couch and watched Ross and Rachel. It felt almost like I was at home, my parent's home, before everything changed. Before I grew up, before my mom died and almost all familiarity went away. I was watching TV they way it was watched for decades, the way I grew up watching. It felt good. Then I fell asleep.