The time of being alone with my house of machines is about to end. We’ve enjoyed each other’s silent company for two days, such as it is, and now it’s time to slip across town and retrieve the little man. And I literally mean slip. Our snow turned into two days of freezing rain. It looks nice and glossy outside.
But writing about one machine made me think about another. With my son on his way over, I couldn’t help but wonder if televisions enjoy playing one show over another, or if they’re just indifferent. The television’s main job when I’m here alone is to balance a picture on it’s head and help maintain the barebones feng shui of the place. In layman’s terms, this might sound like: That big blank wall needs something big and blocky in front of it. And it’d be nice if it held a picture.
But when the little man arrives, the television’s entire job changes. One quick click and the house is filled with the sights and sounds of cartoons.
Maybe my television has two jobs. Maybe with me it just moonlights. Hanging out with me is like going to work as a night watchman, where it sits and stares at the back of my head like it’s a security monitor, playing a never changing view from a camera aimed at the lower levels of an empty parking garage. It’s usually a two day shift, sometimes one, seldom three. And then it’s over. I imagine it sighs with relief. ahhhhhhh In less then an hour, little hands will seek out the television’s remote, where the favorites button is preprogrammed with nothing but cartoon stations. As far as televisions go, that has to border on dream job.