Nerdguy and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary this month. And it may all be coming to a screeching halt once he hears my confessions. The kids aren’t going to side with me either, and I don’t blame them.
I watch TV without them.
It started out innocently enough. My husband works from home, so we often eat lunch together, and watch a show or two in uninterrupted peace and quiet.
It’s like our own private Caribbean resort. I’m talking a real low-budget one, due to the excessively stained carpets and lack of ocean view. We don’t even have a sandbox anymore, so that’s really going to hurt our Travelocity rating. Is there such a thing as half a star?
But often he has to leave mid-episode for a conference call, leaving weak-willed me to jump at his suggestion that I finish the episode without him and he’ll catch up later. But then he doesn’t catch up. And where does that leave me? I’m twitching for my next fix, and rewatching the episode I already saw isn’t going to give me the dopamine rush I’m seeking.
So I keep going. Finishing the odd episode here and there was the gateway. Watching on my iPad from my office (possibly the bathroom) with the volume turned down low, through a burner profile so the bookmark doesn’t move…well that’s harder to justify.
So I stopped.
Now I just don’t tell him about shows that look binge-worthy, like Stranger Things, or Santa Clarita Diet, and I brazenly watch them right out in the open.
But then I got cocky. And the whole family came out of their Minecraft coma at the same time while I was watching One Day at a Time. I resigned myself to pausing, rewinding, and explaining for the rest of the series.
She kept stealing my blanket because she wanted me to go buy her chips while she watched Netflix. No wonder I have to sneak around.
I made a mental note to convert the laundry room into a media panic room.
My head is being used as an iPad stand and the children clearly have a secret source of sugar. How soon can I get that panic room constructed?
I even dished out the ice cream that I hide behind the vegetables, and only indulge in once the kids are tucked into bed and glasses of water have been outlawed. Instead of making them quiet, everything had to be repeated because full mouths have never been a deterrent for talking in this house, and now I had peanut butter cups smeared on my furniture.
It looks like this only child has to learn how to share after all. Plus I discovered that Nerdguy watched Trevor Noah: Afraid of the Dark last night without me, so now I understand how hurtful my behaviour has been.
But I’m still not sharing my ice cream.
Maggie poured me apple juice in her favourite Lalaloopsy cup, but I was pushing my luck when I asked for a piece of popcorn.
Disclosure: I am a member of the Netflix Stream Team. So I really can’t help it if my job requires me to watch the shows while my family is sleeping, working, or at school. It’s in my contract. Which is totally confidential, so I can’t show it to them if they ask. It’s not because it’s not real. Because I would totally show you my tax returns…umm, I mean my contract…if I were able to. I have nothing to hide. Nobody is a bigger fan of sharing the remote and my ice cream than I am. Believe me. Now, I have to go, because there are 3 million people waiting in my living room to watch Finding Dory with me.
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