1st of May - TV Yay!
Well I have survived my month with no TV with a lack of drama. Unfortunately all my big plans to do other things with my time did not eventuate. I slept more, cleaned more and read more (in that order) but didn't suddenly develop motivation to take up abstract pottery classes or anything else radically interesting.
My one mundane realisation is that TV is actually as essential for ironing as the iron itself. I haven't be able to get up the motivation to stand there for an hour doing that absolutely boring job without some form of distraction, which has resulted in me denuding my wardrobe of every ironed shirt over the first two weeks, madly re-washing and wearing clothes that do not require ironing for the 3rd week, and just giving up all together and going out in un-ironed clothes for the 4th. I now have to joyfull task of ironing my whole wardrobe in one go (half the doors in my house are sporting some form of clothes on a hanger waiting to be ironed).
As I listen to the faint strains of some american Brittany spin off coming from video hits on the newly revitilised idiot box, I pray that one month was enough to break me of the habit of watching SHIT, and I will never again wake up during a show about which American horder with flying phobia wants to move to the British countryside to be a model, and wonder what I'm doing with my LIFE.
My one mundane realisation is that TV is actually as essential for ironing as the iron itself. I haven't be able to get up the motivation to stand there for an hour doing that absolutely boring job without some form of distraction, which has resulted in me denuding my wardrobe of every ironed shirt over the first two weeks, madly re-washing and wearing clothes that do not require ironing for the 3rd week, and just giving up all together and going out in un-ironed clothes for the 4th. I now have to joyfull task of ironing my whole wardrobe in one go (half the doors in my house are sporting some form of clothes on a hanger waiting to be ironed).
As I listen to the faint strains of some american Brittany spin off coming from video hits on the newly revitilised idiot box, I pray that one month was enough to break me of the habit of watching SHIT, and I will never again wake up during a show about which American horder with flying phobia wants to move to the British countryside to be a model, and wonder what I'm doing with my LIFE.