There goes another piece of my soul
Sorry Abba, roommate compromise. The cable lady was calling today, so we must've entered the last week of our cable-free existence. I was telling a coworker about my concerns that TV would captivate me and take over my life. She said, "Grow up and have some self-control."

That's a nice theory.

I'm trying to come up with some other methods of encouraging self-control. I've considered designing a method of locking down the screen and giving the Sandwich the key. That way I'd have to ask every time I wanted to watch the tube. That's a little demeaning. I've thought about counting hours, kind of like dieters count calories. I suppose I could graph those hours which might be fun, but not for very long. I've thought about hiding the remote and then brainwashing myself. Ooooh. Does anyone know hypnosis? Maybe I could set up a couch that would shock me after I'd been on it for an hour, but that would probably just get me watching TV from the floor. I could set up some system of rewards. For every hour of writing I did a week that's how many hours of TV I could watch. That sounds noble, but I can see that one deteriorating at ludicrous speed.

I knew this guy once; he had self-control. Nobody liked him.