Sep 7, 2017 3 min read

The television is back, and with it the news, the political arguing, the bad facelifts, the stupid bickering housewives and the sad weather images. And also, the temptation to acquire.

For reasons too mundane to describe here, we were without television for a while. The first weeks were aggressively quiet, but then the quiet became softer; eventually I forgot about the TV and its constant gray drone.

But now we’re in a new house, and the cable TV is back. Although I didn’t miss it while it was gone, TV just seemed practical and necessary in the new digs. An hour after the cable guy pulled out of the driveway, I sat down in the fat chair, picked up the remote control and rejoined the chattering world, already in progress.

The first thing that grabbed me was a shopping channel, where the aproned host was stuffing bits of chocolate cake into his mouth, crossing his eyes and mugging the camera in feigned ecstasy. But wait a minute: maybe he wasn’t faking it. Maybe that cake really was that good.

Turns out he was selling a bundle of pre-wrapped cake slices, 22 of them. It was like a whole set of Encyclopedia Britannica cakes. Riveted, I watched as the host google-eyed his way through banana and lemon and cinnamon and vanilla cakes.

All that for $35, I thought as I reached for my phone. But wait, I could order this online, and I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed telling a person I wanted to buy all that. I would keep all those slices in the freezer and pull them out one at a time, to be cut in half and shared as a special treat maybe once a week. The lady selling them said they’d keep for six months in the freezer; one order would last us until spring.

Before I could go online to order, the host was on to the next thing, a colander that collapses to the thickness of a cutting board. He’s right! My metal colander takes up a lot of space, and it’s noisy. This one is silent and it fits over the sink. The saleslady poured two pounds of noodles into it. I should order one of those, in the autumny orange color.

During that time without TV, I’d forgotten how all the women on home shopping channels have perfect manicures. I used to think I’d be good as a TV shopping host, but it turns out my hands aren’t pretty enough.

Oh, wait. What’s this? Now the host is selling a spray that takes that brown crud off the bottom of saucepans. And it got a stain out of a rug, too. My pots and pans are an embarrassment. I should get some of that.

In just that one sitting in front of the TV, I came very close to spending good money on the following: an array of three dozen cake slices I would likely eat in three days; a collapsing colander, a copper sauté pan, a casserole cookbook, six dry-aged sirloin steaks you can cut with a fork, a stainless-steel water bottle and, in the next hour of programming, a magic bra. I did order the magic stain spray, which should arrive in seven to 10 business days. I nabbed those just before they sold out.

After an hour back in the saddle, I knew it was time to turn off the TV. That thing is dangerous.

Beth Dolinar can be reached at cootiej@aol.com.