The Binge, Revisited

 “Netflix gives you 15 seconds between episodes to decide whether or not you’re doing anything with your life today”

--- Internet Meme

Image by Rob Dobi via https://bit.ly/2PT63qy

 

A little over five years ago, I was stuck at home, unable to go out because of a health issue. No, there wasn’t a pandemic, everyone else was out and about, eating in restaurants, shopping in stores, and going barefaced. My issue was a new hip, and honestly, at least back then I had an excuse to lie around and be unproductive. Now? We’ve reached the Pinterest portion of the pandemic, and everyone is all over social media By everyone, I mean, not me. Sorry, but artisanal bread, kale chips, and gourmet chick pea salad is not how I roll, even if I am trapped in the house.

 

Initially, I bought a few sacks of flour, collected enough butter and eggs to choke a horse, and stockpiled a collection of Tasty and Buzzfeed food videos of deliciously decadent treats. Haven’t made any of them yet. The reason? I've fallen down the rabbit hole of online streaming. Between Hulu, Netflix, YouTube, and Amazon Prime, there are several thousand movies and shows to choose from, and honestly, binge-watching has become my video Valium of sorts. If I can’t sleep, Mary Tyler Moore, James Bond, Bob Newhart, and classic film noir movies are always there for me.

 

Five years ago, I wrote about the beauty of the binge, and how when there is downtime, it helps to have a distraction. In 2015, I wrote:

“What’s the answer? A good binge, that’s what. Now before you think anything untoward, I am not talking about vodka or chocolate cake. The new “Lost Weekend” is known as “binge-watching” and it’s perfect for those times when you don’t want to deal with the crapfest that passes for entertainment on some networks. There are a lot of ways to binge-watch too, depending on what you have available.”

That is still mostly true, except now, the crapfest is, sadly, the national news. It seems that everything is blowing up, from COVID numbers to fireworks factories, and Twitter rants, and that gets old after a while. Back then, however, if I couldn’t find something good online, there was Chet’s Video, with their delicious popcorn and candy. They even delivered movies for me while I healed. I miss that place.

The bonus now though? With online streaming, the viewer is the boss. It might be just a coincidence, but the TV “clickah” is actually called the “remote control.” How perfect is that? We’re all stuck learning remotely, working remotely, and doing so much else in an isolated way, and now we get to push some buttons and rule the world. Well, at least the screen anyway. I can wield a remote like a pro, zipping through channels at a seizure-inducing pace. I can’t make the pandemic go away. I am powerless to open the schools, I can’t sit on my favorite barstool at the Barnacle, munching on clams and sipping the perfect Bloody Mary. No hugging my friends, or traveling, or going to a ballgame. So much of what was normal in the “Before Times” just can’t happen now. So, this is one part of life that is entirely up to me, and you bet your sweet bippy, I’m going for it.

Back then, it was frustrating to be physically limited. No bike rides, no badminton matches, I couldn’t even walk Penny the Pug. Now the limits are different, and while I'm grateful to be healthy, it's still frustrating. We are moving into a new phase though, and just maybe in a few months, some of what we are missing will come back. In the meantime, I will be turning away from the 24-hour news cycle of death and destruction, and going for the beauty of the binge. 

 

 

 

 

One Of Those Days

That actually feels like two, you know? Like it's so bad, I'm amazed that so much sh*t could be crammed into such a short period. Starting with everyone getting off to school etc late. Much screaming and wailing. Then, technical internet issues with the job, because who doesn't love a website that wobbles now and then? Good times. There's a reason I'm not a software developer. It's because they cannot be trusted...haha, I kid. Ok, not really. Seriously, computer people are supposed to be smart. Get it together Google guys.

Then, whilst heading into the high school gym to pick up the cheer girl (who was not very cheery the last time I saw her at o'dark thirty, shrieking her head off)  I do an epic pavement dive on black ice. Like windmill arms, fat ass flying in the air, crashing on the newly replaced hip kind of gravity check. If it were the Olympics, even the Russian judge would have given me a 10. So, I pick myself up, and keep walking, I mean, what choice is there? I'm the "Sink or Swim" girl, right? Ya, falling down is likely way easier on a beach. But hey, there's my girl cheering her heart out and it's all OK.

BAM! It's not OK. Down again, this time on the gym floor, because, I don't know, I just never learn or something. The purse goes flying, the phone is pretty smashed and the hip that ISN'T aching like a bitch in heat from the parking lot drubbing,  might now be a candidate for being replaced, just like it's companion hip. Which, by the way, is now clicking and creaking, because it's ceramic and metal and I never have been good with things that are breakable. Oh, and the cheer girl is pretending she doesn't know me, and I can't say I blame her.

It's not that bad, I mean, bumps and bruises, part of a New England winter, but today? It has to be today, when I was all feeling good about auditioning for an improv troupe, that I've wanted to be in, oh, only for the last two years or so. Did that last night and LOVED it. What's it like to want something, something that makes you so jazzed and happy? I think I know. Of course, between being tossed on hard surfaces, I check my email (and my health insurance policy) and find the dreaded "Thanks but no thanks we're going with someone else" email. Fabulous. It would be one thing if 20 people had auditioned, but there were four people, so ya, it appears I do indeed suck at this theater thing. And I wanted it so much. SO MUCH.  Also, apparently I suck at just regular walking around.

Thankfully there was one bright spot, lunch with present and former co-workers. Good times, good food and the one part of the day that didn't require an ice pack, a Motrin the size of Rhode Island and a box of Bandaids. I'm so happy when I'm around other writers and journalists. I will concentrate on that for now. So done with this damn day.