The other night I was giving my husband The Gift of Sleep.
My friend Katy taught me about The Gift of Sleep. See, sleep is important. So important that if you love someone, you will let him sleep when he really needs it. My husband really needed it the other night–as evidenced by the fact that he went into our bedroom and fell asleep by 7:30 PM. So I gave him The Gift of Sleep. I let him be. And the dogs and I slept in the guest room (because Penny and Bonnie Ray always sleep in whatever room I’m in–regardless of size). He had a great night of sleep all stretched out across our king-sized bed.
In the guest room, I climbed into the bed that was mine before I married–so basically, I don’t hate it. Smaller, it still has the fabulous high thread count sheets I indulged in as a single woman. The guest room also has the TV that was my bedroom TV pre-marriage. Actually, it has the 13-inch tube TV that I have had since somewhere around 1991. I know that it’s allegedly bad to have a TV in your bedroom. Supposedly, it actually disrupts your sleep. But anyone who knows me knows I have the worst time with sleep anyway. And having the TV on is actual a part of my sleep ritual. It has been. Since 1991.
Here’s the thing: that little 13-inch TV got me through adolescence. And high school. And college. And young adulthood. My husband does not understand my relationship with television. Never will. But TV has always been my friend. Like the books I read on the floor of my closet. Like movies. Because TV is an escape from reality. And when I was younger, it was often my only escape from reality (i.e. complete chaos, utter madness). And so, I would be up all night as a pre-teen and teen, watching My Three Sons, and Dobie Gillis, and The Patty Duke Show on my little 13-inch TV. That TV drowned out everything else. It kept me company. It distracted me. It let me escape–even if only in 30-minute chunks when I should have been sleeping (but couldn’t).
But now, thanks to the digital age, my little friend is obsolete. As of this year, all I can get is snow (which always freaks me out. Because Poltergeist!) Worry not–I dragged my laptop in there and streamed Netflix while my husband enjoyed The Gift of Sleep). But still. It’s not the same. After 23 years, it’s just not the same. After 23 years, it’s time to say goodbye.