This is a true story. That crazy therapist used some type of power to bust our household's ONLY television set. Let me share the whole story with you so that you fully understand the impact this one Southern man can have on electronics.
I was experiencing a very productive Friday. Two interviews had been completed, my invoicing for the week was done and I had even taken out yet another eating scene from H&B. As 2:45 hit, I felt the need for a good break.
And there's no better way to take a break from interviewing plastic surgeons and jewelery retailers than with an hour of watching people too stupid to live.
So I made up a plate of veggies (with more dip than necessary) and settled down in front of the Staring television set. The DH was out running errands so I knew I would be able to talk back to the TV undisturbed. The theme song played and Dr. Phil introduced the topic:
Some woman with five gazillion kids was going to be reunited with them even though she was behind bars.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I muttered as a reached for another carrot stick.
Images of the children and the prisoner, whose crime hadn't been mentioned yet, flew by as Dr. Phil started talking about how important it was to explain situations to children so that they understand cause and effect.
Then the screen turned green and fizzled out.
Talk about cause and effect. I could still hear voices, but the picture was gone. Turning the set on and off only yielded
the same spooky green image and then darkness. An unseen child cried as a tear slipped down my cheek.
The DH was totally going to blame this on me, so my only hope of surviving the investigation was to pin this on Dr. Phil. But how?
First, I made sure the TV was set to the same channel, hoping that just the sound of Dr. Phil's voice, if the DH arrived back within the hour, would be all the proof he needed. And then I memorized a few Dr. Philisms
that I could work into our conversation about the damaged set:
"How's that working for you so far?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"We're gonna solve this, no matter how long it takes."
When the DH arrived home, I stayed at the computer, hoping that my latest spritz of Febreeze's Innoscent Mist
would keep me out of trouble.
"What's that smell?" he asked.
?" I blinked a few times, which made him suspicious.
"I'm surprised you're not watching Dr. Phil right now. Bad topic?"
I turned away from the computer screen to give him the news. "Dr. Phil broke the TV."
The DH stared and then laughed. "Sure he did." He picked up the remote and the good doctor's voice filled the room. He was talking about rehab and parole violations, but it didn't matter.
"Are you kidding me?" DH asked, taking one of my lines.
"How's that working for you so far?" I asked him right back.
He did a double-take because I ended up using a Southern accent.
"We're gonna solve this, no matter how long it takes," he said, adding his own accent and tossing the remote in the bin. "No more episodes of The White Rapper Show
My jaw dropped. "No!"
"Oh yes. No TV until the novel is done."
Did I mention that Friday was also our 16th
wedding anniversary? It's the only reason he's alive right now.