Dicks, Cox...same thing

I have to say that if this morning is a premonition of the rest of the day then I'm going back to bed.

Alas, I cannot. You see my spoiled children (and yes, I'll admit it...They are indeed spoiled and I wouldn't have it anyother way...Except when they're screaming in my ear as like this morning) don't have cable.

OH, NO! Lord, forbid that they should miss the Teletubies.

So as I sit and hum along with the "elevator music" (I find that term nonsense because I have yet to set foot on an elevator that plays such music or any music for that matter) that is playing while I'm on hold with a technition...I rub my temples and sigh.

Why is it TV is so damn important? When I was growing up we were sent outside to play. If we were inside that meant one of only a few things:

A) it was pouring sheets of rain and there were threats of tornadoes

B) it was -30 degrees outside and there was risk of frostbite

C) it was in quadruple digits and we were beginning to melt

D) we were on our death bed and would sit quietly in the house and not bother anyone

It's a damn shame that in the course of just my lifetime I cannot send my children out to play unsupervised.

Paranoid, yes, but thoughts of serial rapists and kidnappings abound in my head and forbid me to do so. That and the fact that as I've gotten older I don't want to play outside in the heat or the cold. I suppose that is why I love the Fall and the Spring so damn much...They're nice and mellow seasons.

So the tech says that he'll send someone out Thursday.
"(sigh) Yeah, that'll be cool."

Yet, I'm thinking that they could send someone out today. Oh, well, my daughter knows the joy of not having cable TV. When she was born we did not have cable. Yet, my son is accustomed to watching the damned thing...And I say watching loosely. They just like the noise as it is that when the Teletubies or Spongebob are not on they are having the time of their life playing with their toys. The imagination is such a wonderful tool and yet they cannot fathom using it without the noise of the TV on.
I think I may head up to New York and have a few buttery-nipples with Rathwel...And yes, it is a drink.