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God Bless Mediocre Television

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I’m not very good at getting rest when I’m home alone.  Chris was home sick for a couple days this summer, and I was lounging about with him, taking naps, reading, watching tv.  Yet when I’m at home and he’s at work I can’t settle.  Which isn’t some kind of hard-working virtue of mine, it’s just unwise and stupid.  Because if I spend any length of time cleaning or working on little projects, the muscle spasms and the dizziness kick in and then I’m laid up and miserable and totally useless for another day and half.  But I just can’t seem to learn.  I’ll stagger around with blurred vision all tachycardic like my life depends on putting the dishes away.

So  my new strategy involves mediocre television.  Say I want to sweep my downstairs floors. Instead of push, push, pushing through it until I’m forced to  lay down on my not-yet-clean floor, I’ve been queuing up Nextflix and playing a mediocre tv show in the living room.  With a mediocre show, I’m happy to listen to it in either room and occasionally sit down on the couch to watch.  Bingo.  That’s me, taking it easier while I clean.

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