TV Guide

If I don't stop by your blog today, don't take it personally. I freaking hate April Fools.


I will hold my peace on the subject because I know many, many people LOVE it. I do not. That is all. (That's not even close to all, but that's all that really matters.)


In other news of things I don't hate, I don't think I've mentioned our neighbors. We like the peeps in our new 'hood, but we're especially close to the ones on our right. We share so many things in common, like . . .


Well, mainly TV. And honestly, it's a one-sided relationship. Because we just watch what they watch. We sort of have to.


The thing is, my clever husband met me a year-ish ago at the door to our new house that was in the dusty throes of a remodel. Instead of, "Hello, light of my life and my reason for living. I love you. How are you today?" he said, "Do you trust me?"


Uh, yes. In terms of the children's lives, my life, etc. But when you meet me at the door covered in drywall dust and looking anxious . . . less so. Much less so.


He led me to the family room wall. Or the shadow of its former self. What I saw now was a wall full of holes. Big gaping holes. Big gaping ragged holes with teeth and bad attitudes. Kenny went on and on about future-proofing and coaxial cables and  . . . 


Well, in the interests of preserving marital harmony, I tuned him out and decided I'd never seen the wall int its current state. I would refuse to see the wall again until it resembled it's old wall-y self. Then Kenny said something like, "And this way Grant can't press the buttons whenever he wants any more."


Wait, what? No more crackers in the DVD player? No more fingerprints and peanut butter smears across the face of our fourth child, the television? My faith is restored. Carry on, husband.


Turns out he'd run the wires for our EVERYTHING media-related through the walls into our laundry room so we could stick all of our gadgety entertainment-type doohickeys in a cabinet in there and NEVER HAVE TO SEE THEM AGAIN. This was made possible not by magic. Not by house elves. Not even by Steve Jobs or Bill Gates.


Nope, it was good ole radio frequency. See, most remotes work off of infrared which is why your remote has to be pointed at the object it's trying to communicate with. Most people (who are not me) know this. Most people (who are not me) do not stare at their "universal" remotes in befuddlement when it turns out that their remote controls DO have limits. These remotes do not change the channel on crying children. They do not mute screaming toddlers. They don't even start the washing machine from a distance.


Seem kind of useless, if you ask me. 


Anyway, most remotes are infrared and can't work through a wall. But radio frequency remotes do. They're pretty unusual because they're a little expensive, but when your husband is a huge tech nerd (but a very, very sexy one) and can do all the programming, then it reduces the price to the cost of a new entertainment center which we would have had to buy if we didn't do it this way, anyway. Behold, the result:

Yes, there is clutter on my mantle. Yes, I just barely took this picture. So yes, I could have cleared it before taking it. And, no. I don't care. And yes, I just spent more time defending the cluttered mantel than it would have taken to just clear it. 

Hooray! The same husband who can do all the tech stuff also repaired the wall (he's already taken, ladies)  and we were ready to rock and roll. Or Nick at Nite. Or stare at a neverending parade of freaks on TLC's evening programming. Everything came together beautifully. Until . . .


We turned it on.


It was actually day two before I realized the TV was possessed. I was trying to watch the VH-1 video countdown. It kept flipping to Penguins of Madagascar. I shrugged. New systems are always buggy. Then I was trying to watch a Say Yes to the Dress marathon. And it kept flipping to a CSI marathon.


And then, after several days of trying to figure out what the new "universal" remote was trying to tell me about myself based on its programming selections for me, I had a little light bulb moment. It happened on a Saturday morning when no matter what I did, my TV rejected Property Ladder and flipped back and forth between Penguins of Madagascar and The Wizards of Waverly Place. We don't watch those shows. But you know who would? The nine-year-old girl next door.


So I sent Kenny to investigate.

Guess who else has the only other RF remote in the neighborhood? Yep. The neighbors to the right.


Sigh.


At least they don't watch porn. And I've learned to make my peace with the QVC jewelry channel.


Oh, and today is your last day to enter to win a copy of The List by commenting on this post from Monday.