The Idiot's Lantern

I got a TV.

I haven’t owned a TV in years, ever since I moved out of the apartment my ex-boyfriend and I shared, and I never knew I missed it. But I got a great deal on a 40” flat-screen, HD, smarter-than-ever TV, so on a whim I got it. And I have to admit, Netflix does look a lot better on a 40” TV than on a 13” MacBook.

Sitting on my big, comfy couch watching my big, highly defined TV makes me think, though. First of all, obviously, it makes me think that I seem to be putting down roots in this apartment, this place, this city. Having my own comfy couch, my own TV, decorating for Christmas – what is happening to me? Is this becoming a – gasp! – home?

Second of all, Stevie (the first thing I did after I turned on my new TV was, of course, changing the device name in the settings to “Stevie the TV”, what else) reminds me of the last time I had a TV, and of all that came with it. Sitting on that other couch, watching that other TV, M. and the cats next to me. Ugh. Do I want to be reminded of that?

On Sundays, M. and I used to watch Formula 1 and NASCAR. Hanging on the couch, cuddling the cats, cuddling each other. A ritual, a wonderful ritual. I miss it. Watching cars racing in circles by myself, without a man and two cats next to me just isn’t the same.

M. also liked to watch those old re-runs of Columbo they showed on some channel late at night. I always made fun of the horrible dubbing on German TV, but I watched it with him nonetheless, eagerly awaiting Detective Columbo to come up with that “one more thing” moment, at which we high-fived - yay Columbo!

The Austrian band Wanda has a song called ‘Columbo” on their latest album that struck quite a sentimental chord with me, just like the TV does.

“Heute gehn wir gar nicht raus Wir bleiben im Pyjama zu Haus Nur wir zwei wie im Traum und Columbo schaun …

… am Ende faellt Columbo etwas ein lass es unsere Rettung sein”

Ugh. Living alone, without the man, without the cats, isn’t for the faint-hearted. It’s hard. But Columbo didn’t save us, after all, and it was my decision to move out. To have my own life, my own apartment, my own couch, my own TV.

And I manage. I’m okay. It turns out I’m my own Rettung.