The Last Picture Show

I don't know about you, but when we sit down to watch a DVD we have to go through a set of delicate maneuvers with the wire that runs the video from the DVD/VCR player to get the picture to come in. The contact is so loose that we've had to brace the plug with CD cases to wedge it in. The jack is located right under the screen, so the whole setup gives our living room an air a certain air of trailer-park elegance.

If we just want to watch t.v. we have to go through the same procedure, since the contact for the cable on the back of the television was ripped out in one of the several incidents in which some young thing stood on the cabinet and tilted it enough to allow the t.v. to slide off. Both television and children have emerged relatively unscathed from these shenanigans (except, of course, for the cable contact). Not so the heirloom coffee table on which the t.v. landed full force.

Of late it's become more and more difficult to get the picture to resolve, and yesterday the contact finally gave up the ghost. There won't be many tears shed when the shell is put out on the curb. We didn't have a t.v. in the house when I was growing up, and Darwin's family rationed t.v. time sparingly. The girls can imitate the youthful example of their parents and find other things to occupy their time, like walking to school in the snow uphill both ways.

And then in a few months we can get one of those spiffy wall mounted t.v.s that won't take up valuable floor real estate, which we couldn't justify while the old t.v. still worked. Now if only the vacuum cleaner would finally die...