Don’t put up defenses — TV is full of garbage.  It’s a square (or flat rectangle if you’re hip and have a flat screen which I’m sure Nick and I will get sometime in the next 38 years) mess full of the darkest parts of human nature.  It celebrates infidelity and violence and offers a shrug to matters of human dignity.  At best, it gives us mindless entertainment and conversation pieces at summer parties when there’s an awkward moment (or hour) with, “Did you see the last episode of ‘Modern Family?’ I can’t decide if it’s Phil or Cameron who steals the show.”

I’m of the belief that the less TV – the better off one is and if you don’t have a TV or don’t use it — that’s ideal.

But I don’t live in an ideal world, I live in reality.  Not reality TV, but actual reality with love handles and dirty laundry.  In reality, at the end of a long day of chasing a toddler, answering questions about theology, and addressing the little but significant details of life upkeep, my brain is – how shall I put it – FRIED LIKE A GARLIC EGG.  There’s no space to absorb The China Study, or whatever nonfiction book I’m trying to get through.  I barely have the brain power to turn on the LISTEN button when Nick is telling me about his day or latest story about his grad program.  My brain resembles the ending to terrible 80s movies — the screen goes painstakingly slow to a fade out with synthesizer music in the background to make it sound like a profound moment has just passed.  Yeah — that’s my brain.

And so I started watching TV and began understanding why so many people do — my brain turns off and lets comedians and actors in, prancing like fools, talking jibberish and making me smirk while I lay my head on Nick’s shoulder.

It was this week that I decided to quit being such a hard ass about TV.  Watching the boob tube late at night for me isn’t a sign of degenerative brain functionality.  It means my brain’s done for the day and staring at a bright box somehow makes me feel better.

Now, if that turns into something more than a handful of hours per week, then I can pick up my judgement wand and get back on my train.

But for now – pump up the volume and let me absorb this 30 minutes of nothing.

Nothing never felt so good.