remote.

i sit down on the sofa. it is a moment i have waited over 13 hours for. the moment that comes a few nights a week when smaller versions of myself are in bed and i am on the sofa waiting for mr. mr. to sit down.

sometimes i turn on the tv. then sometimes i read. sometimes i compute. 

if i turn on the tv it goes to an innocuous sitcom, hgtv or maybe the news. but really, i'm all about waiting for the sofa and the man.

but then it happens.

i glance away, i ponder the arrangement of the candles on the table, or consider taking off my shoes. and in that blink the tv goes bad.

i mean really bad.

mr. mr. has remotely changed my comedy for something with aliens. or spies. or alien spies. one minute it's kelsey grammar, the next it's a 4 headed green thing with one eye and a desperate need for a 12 step program for anger management.

this choice of his is not bad. not good. not frustrating. not surprising.

it is consistent.

some nights the sum total of our differences boils down to steve carell vs. richard dreyfus. 

i can live with that.