To Connect or Not to Connect...

For a self-proclaimed Luddite, I am suspiciously reliant on speedy and readily-available internet access. The past week has been a bit of a tough slog given that I am used to receiving and responding to emails several times a day. Plus, without access to cbc.ca, I have no clue what's going on in Canadaland. Y'all could have been taken over by France without me knowing.

But as of today, I am once again cruising on the Internet Interstate and will try to keep the blog updated more frequently. Perhaps focusing on my blog will help me with my prayer, "lead me not into temptation..."

For, you see, the cheapest internet package we could find came bundled with basic cable. Most of you know that we haven't had a TV for a couple of years. But perhaps you did not realize that it was not because we don't like that flickering glow of voyeuristic pleasure that has come to replace the family unit's evening fireside and effectively destroyed the cohesiveness of that unit by removing from it all incentive to actually talk. No, it was because we knew that once we allowed even a brief glimpse of that seductive glow to enter our sight, we would succumb to its siren call and not emerge until summer reruns.

(I should be clear that "we" means "me"; The Husband would probably protest that he could quit at any time, and perhaps that is true. But I take comfort in thinking that I have company in my addiction.)

I'm the first to admit that I have addictive tendencies. An entire day's worth of exams in my undergrad was jeopardized because I was playing solitaire the night before and was playing "just one more" until I made my money back. The nadir of my television-watching days came when I had a show I "just had to watch" every single night. When it comes to television, my only hope heretofore has been simply to remove the possibility.

But now, there it is. Beckoning. Of course, the cable guys *had* to plug in the TV. Just to make sure it was working. And now I can't even cling to my laziness and passively avoid its lure by whining that it's too hard to plug it in. Now I have to actively unplug it.

And if I do, it will always be there. The Boy has discovered its existence; The Girl will no doubt find out shortly. For now, we're watching the 12 inch circa 1990 set that was in the kids' room back home; hardly an orgy of pixels. But The Husband is quite determined to get one of those monster screens - "for movies only."

Sigh. The battle is lost. Anyone know if Survivor is still on Thursdays?

(BTW, thanks to all who have been praying for The Girl. This morning was still tough, but she discovered last week that her BFF also has a stuffed animal in her locker, so she doesn't feel nearly as alone.)