’Tis the season to snuggle with your smartphone on the sofa.
I’ve recently discovered Netflix, the pay-for-endless-streaming-video service. This is embarrassing because I’ve had Netflix for years but never bothered to learn how to use it.
The children understood it. This is why Netflix now believes I am a huge fan of scary movies, war epics and Dora the Explorer cartoons.
I went from an insufferable “I don’t watch much television” type to someone who understands the term “binge watch.”
I used to curl up with a good book. This time of year I like to curl up with a fuzzy blanket by the warm, flickering glow of the television with thousands of programs at my fingertips. I will simultaneously surf the Internet with my smartphone and enjoy sharing my hopelessly lame evening with cyberspace.
Checking in as “still on my couch” tells you a lot about the middle-aged party lifestyle. Ditto “liking” all my favorite snack food social media pages.
As we enter the Christmas season, I am enjoying immersing myself in my usual season of joyous celebration overdosing on the sugary sweet goodness of holiday movie fare.
I will sit through a town that forgot — and found — Christmas. The orphans who find the meaning of family — usually with a single gal who finds true love. The toy factory will remain open. The cynical reporter will believe and adults will never question the “extra” presents that surely must appear unexplained under the tree each Christmas after Santa stops by.
There is nothing I don’t love about the over-the-top magic and sugary sweetness of your average syrupy, happy holiday movie.
Meanwhile, I, who swore I didn’t watch much television, am making up for it now. I used to come home after work and accomplish things. Now I have endless television programs and movies at my beck and call.
When viewing multiple episodes of a television series, Netflix helpfully auto plays the next episode! Within 10 seconds of finishing one episode, it automatically begins the next.
The other night I found myself enjoying a four-hour Ghost Whisperer marathon without even realizing it.
I can’t speak for the plot of that delightfully spook show, but I suppose I was haunted by the ghost of a very comfy couch, yoga pants and the ability to watch endless hours of commercial free TV without lifting a finger.
Seriously, now that even controlling a remote seems taxing I think I have reached new highs — or lows — in sloth.
It is so bad that after three or four simultaneous auto-play episodes, the screen actually flags a new message, asking “are you still watching? You have to enter “OK” to continue to watch.
I imagine that “Are you REALLY still laying there watching TV loser?” didn’t test well.
As I snuggle up for the winter season, I think that if famous carols were written today, things would surely be different.
Twelve Drummers Drumming would be downloading the latest drum beats. Eleven Pipers Piping would be doing the same. Ten Lords a Leaping would be Ten Lords a Lazing probably hooked on subscription television.
Nine Ladies Dancing would probably be Twerking (say it isn’t so Santa). Eight Maids a Milking would be lactose intolerant. Seven Swans a Swimming would need flotation devices. Swimming is just so HARD.
Six Geese a Laying. That sounds about right. Laying around enjoying the awesome wonder of having built in feather down. Five Golden Rings would be a Black Friday Doorbuster sale.
Three French Hens, Two Turtle Doves and a Partridge in a Pear Tree would have all been freed by PETA.
I know you are thinking I skipped a verse. No. Some things are just obvious. As for the four calling birds. Forget about it. Nobody calls anymore. Those birds are texting now.
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