Cable Television

We cancelled our cable a month ago.  The company was raising our rate and we were already paying a ridiculous amount so we cancelled it.  Chris set up an antenna and with Netflix and occasional Amazon shows, I was perfectly content.  Actually, I was more than perfectly content, because no cable means no football.

I get that people like football.  I’m not opposed to it as a sport.  I enjoy watching games occasionally and appreciate the awesome feats of athleticism.  Super high jumps over someone’s head while holding onto a ball is neat.  I agree.  What I despise are the jibber-jabbering sports-channel analysts with their shiny purple ties and know-it-all attitudes, the obsessive importance attached to games, and the way games dominate all fall weekends.

In recent years, through some tough negotiations, I’d bargained Chris down to “only Oklahoma games on Saturday and only Eagles games from the NFL.”  He sort of, kind of followed this deal.  He only planned on these games, which is something, but if he heard about another game that will be the big match-up that the shiny purple ties tell us we cannot miss well, we were going to obsessively check that channel and maybe leave the TV on mute all day just to check the score.  He tells me “checking the score” is not “watching the game.”  Right.  Can you think of other ways to “check the score” other than turning the TV to the channel?  Yeah, me neither.  Too bad no one invented the internet.

But back to us cancelling our cable.  When we made the decision to cancel the cable, it was with full knowledge that many live sports were now gone from our lives.  Chris agreed that the price of the cable was not worth it just for his contractually negotiated Oklahoma and Eagles games and his contractually illegal, non-negotiated, just-checking-the-score-oh-just-watching-this-play-oh-man-look-I-just-accidentally-watched-another-whole-game games.  This was going to be a great fall!

And then, last Tuesday, the cable guy called:  if we sign up again, they’ll significantly lower the price.  Ugh.

Chris set an appointment with the cable guy.  They could re-install the cable next week.  “What did I think?,” Chris asked.  I thought, “Great cable guy, thanks for taking away the fabulous football-free fall of 2015, you jerk,” but I told Chris if he wanted it, we could do it.  At least it was now cheaper to watch the shiny purple tie guys blather all weekend.

Remember how I posted last week that part of Chris’s post-workout routine is to obsess over videos of his squats?  He does this because he has had some minor injuries and workout challenges that have really been frustrating him.  They aren’t huge problems; he’s still in the gym regularly lifting heavy, but he isn’t progressing as he’d like in both strength and minor-injury rehab.  Thus, when he told me he was thinking about working with a lifting coach, I thought it was a great idea.  He needs someone with expertise who is not Chris himself to help him through these issues.  (Yes, I do know about lifting and I am not Chris, but I’m not the right person to help him with this).  So this morning, I’d just gotten back from a humid run and busily dripping sweat in the kitchen, when he ambushed me with the serious, “this is something important” voice that makes me nervous:  “Can we talk?  I’ve been thinking,” Chris said.

“Oh no,” I thought, “where’s this going?  Not a bodybuilding show please, please, don’t say you want to do a bodybuilding show.”

Chris:  “I found a coach who will work with me and I think I want to do it.  It’s kind of expensive though.  What do you think?”

Of course I thought it was a good idea if it helps him with the one activity around which his life is structured (that would be lifting).

And Chris continued:  “And since it’s kind of expensive, I think it makes sense to not re-subscribe to cable.  We’ll put the money to this instead.”

Thank you Chris’ lifting issues!  Football-free fall 2015 is back!

I’ll leave you with a scene from our apartment at 7 a.m. today:

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He’s made his point.