The monster in the living room

It's oblong and silver colored, weighs about 150 lbs. Takes up half the side of our living room wall. Shiny black glass front, all 32 inches in diameter, but the frame is much bigger than that. Knobs and jacks and plugs, oh my. Impressive! And last night it invaded our peaceful apartment home: Sony Trinitron HD flat screen TV.

About 9 my hubby calls from work. Since I virtually never hear from him at that hour unless he finishes extraordinarily early (we are one of the 1.1% of the American population who share a car) I answered the phone, reaching for my keys. But no, he said, he wasn't done yet but looked like he would be about 10. All right, says I, returning to my relaxation Scrabble game. Then he says the three little words, "I won something."

I still didn't register anything. Won something? Probably a case of jelly or a Smucker's sweatshirt, like last time. So he asks if I'm gonna ask what he won.

I really thought he was having me on, as he sometimes enjoys doing with that twisted Irish humor of his. But no. This time there had been a BBQ and drawing at work to celebrate their exceeding a previous record, and Patrick ended up with one of the prizes.

Now I can think of any number of things that would have been nice to have won: a trip somewhere together, (since we still haven't stayed the night anywhere that wasn't a business or church trip since 1983); a Taylor or Martin guitar; a home theater system; a nice stereo. We already had a perfectly suitable TV, which was big enough without creeping into idol status. But won it he did. No way could that thing fit into our Jetta. We had to wait till a coworker got off work at midnight--then the fun began.

It is one thing to win a TV. It is quite another to win a huge TV and get it up three flights of stairs, around twisty corners built for 1927 furniture. The borrowed hand truck was useless. We had to huff and puff it inches at a time, three of us sweating (and at least one uttering naughty words silently). I'm sure we just endeared ourselves to our neighbors.

But we did it, and so far no one has gone to the ER with cardiac pains.

Today IT sits enthroned on its pedestal. The former TV, poor little Admiral 27-incher, looked just pathetic next to the Emperor. Alina was happy to take possession of the old set, and took it immediately to store at her boyfriend's house. Now Sony rules. If I can figure out how to hook it up, of course.

Meanwhile, the box it came in takes up our entire sofa, awaiting being flattened and put in the recycle bin. Won't this afternoon be fun?

Now here comes the real irony to all this: we don't watch TV. None, nada, ever. We get our news online and pretty much everything else as well. So, Sony may rule, but we are the power behind the throne; and we say that broadcast blahblah, "reality" crapfests, and bony blonde bimbos named for hotel chains do not happen here.

Ah, but movies do. Movies do!!! So do documentaries, concert DVDs, and music instructional videos.

What will the first one be? Fellowship of the Ring? Master and Commander? Fleetwood Mac's The Dance or Ricky Skaggs' Soldier of the Cross? Or maybe Willow or Pirates or Vertigo...

Anticipation.

But first, I must get dressed. It won't do to keep Emperor Sony waiting.