First, let me say that I wish I had knitting to show or really talk about. I’ve finished the back and both fronts of my Cambridge Jacket, and I’m more than halfway done with one sleeve, but it’s just a mess of long skinny bits of knits, not much to photograph. I decided to not do any binding off, anticipating 3-needle bindoffs, so all the pieces are sitting next to each other, threaded onto the same piece of waste yarn, and most pieces are still connected to the original ball of yarn they were being knitted from. In short, it’s kind of a mess. Can’t reveal publicly. Soon enough!
So the rest of this post is going to be the most ridiculous thing: A small homage to my old TV.
Everything about this picture is bad, but I didn’t think to take a better one before I hauled this 50-pound monster out of the apartment and disassembled the crappy shelving it was sitting on.
About this TV. It was big. I have no idea how many inches it was, but it being a tube TV, it was hefty. I got it as a sophomore or junior in high school, as a gift from my grandparents. I remember when I first got it, and having real trouble adjusting to the remote’s layout, and kind of hating the remote and thus the TV. It wasn’t long before the configuration (volume and channel up/down arranged in a circle like a Simon Says, with volume as East/West and Channels as North/South) came naturally, and we were BFF.
I had this TV for 12+ years. Over the last 3+ years the picture has started going a bit. It was blowing out whites, and it made some scenes (that snow fight scene in House of Flying Daggers?) pretty impossible to see at all. It was infuriating. So for three years I was thinking “oh, god, my TV is dying!” In the past few months, the remote has required some really hard pushing to get it to respond. And in addition to all this, I moved to the tiniest of apartments, and I decided a slim flat-screen TV would solve my space issues.
I’ve had the new TV for two weeks but hadn’t brought myself to get rid of the old TV. After all, it still worked pretty much fine, and it seemed so wasteful. But it didn’t work perfectly, so I couldn’t really sell it or give it to a friend. Finally, last night I put a note on it that read “Still works ok! Looking for a good home,” taped the remote to the top, and managed to pick it up and walk down the three flights of stairs. I cannot even describe how heavy this was. Each step was agony; my legs were quivering. I got to the ground floor and couldn’t figure out how to open the door. I put it on the floor, went outside, and looked for a stranger to help me. I didn’t think I could pick the TV up again, but when an elderly neighbor offered to hold the door, I found some last burst of energy and managed it.
I set it gently on the front stoop and went to the laundromat. I wondered how quickly someone would take it–everyone says free stuff in New York gets snatched up. When I passed by again 25 minutes later, the TV was gone. I can only hope it found an excellent new home.