So yesterday was “No Screens” day chez nous. I spend most of my work week staring at computer screens and a lamentable part of my free time staring at more screens. And as the season of increased irritation rolled round, I snapped.
The No Screens Measure was invoked householdwide. No vetos allowed. No computers and no televison and no dvds. Householders had to fall back on old-fangled amusements.
Much paper was used. Drawing pencils and beading needles were seen in action. Naps were had. Three and a half books were read. Actual conversations took place.
Verdict on No Screens: Some twitchiness observed at usual-podcast-listening time. Additional twitchiness observed at Google/Wikipedia withdrawal. Less inner twitchiness reported by all householders.
Heather
Me I’m sitting here, trapped inside on a sunny fall day, waiting for the UPS guy to show up. There’s only so much Kinkless GTDing and Quicksilver fiddling one person can do.
And my brain is numb from reading all about those crochety Covenanters who got fed up with James Sharp, Archbishop of St. Andrews and did him in. He was either killed, murdered, assassinated, or hacked to death–pick a verb and declare your religio-poltical stance on events that happened 327 years ago.
The man from brown better get here soon.
Heather
Wonder how much framing one of these babies will set me back? Perhaps I should choose a couple more for varieties sake–lots to choose from here.
Monday
So do you want to go to London?
Sure
These airline tickets are more expensive than they were last time.
Tuesday
So do you want to go the New York instead?
Sure
Look at these hotel rates.
Wednesday
What about Winnipeg?
Sure
Look at the mosquito warnings.
Well Kingston then?
Been there.
Where do you want to go?
Dunno
Thursday
How about staying home and painting the living room?
Nah
What then?
How about London?
Repeat until someone screams.
While I was messing with the network set-up, Dg was wandering around and noticed an old portable CD player.
Some sort of beer-powered synapse fired. Rummage, rummage. Click. Flip. Click. Stamp stamp stamp . Arms waving outside my workroom. Overloud voice: “Hey did you know I can use this gadget to listen to all the Queen music I want and you won’t be able to tell.”
A twenty year lag time is a wonder to behold.
at the movies yesterday. Serenity didn’t disappoint though it did surprise. It took the chief-Firefly-fan in the house about an hour or more to settle down. He’ll be heading back to see it again sometime this week and I suspect he’ll be sheepishly looking for the sound track anyday.
So I’m not really a hockey fan but I live with someone who has more hockey cards than are good for an adult, spends his free time researching pre-twentieth century hockey, and watches as much hockey as is humanly possible without risking life or limb in marital battles.
So at the beginning of the NHL lockout I was tolerant–not of his withdrawal but of the unending, televised blather about the lack of hockey. As time goes by I get more and more annoyed because it’s such bullshit. Courtesy of the lockout I now have watched hockey from Sweden, Finland, Russia, and Switzerland not to mention Canadian minor league games. There’s enough of it on that I even know the team names and can comment which game style I prefer.
Now how is it possible that televised hockey commentators think there is no hockey on when my brain is be filled up with semi-useless trivia about non-NHL hockey.
