The TV Remote Control Incident

Good heavens, I almost had a disaster this week. I washed the remote control to the hubby's television. Somehow it got mixed into some clothes headed for the washing machine, and it got a good cleaning. Fortunately, I caught it before the remote made it to the dryer. I removed the batteries, got out the blower dryer, and worked diligently to give it CPR. Replacing the double As, I anxiously pushed the buttons, and behold, it was brought back from the dead. I sighed in relief.

I'm not sure, but in Mississippi, destroying the hubby's remote control may be grounds for justifiable homicide. I know it's not grounds for a divorce, but I can't imagine a jury of his male peers not acquitting him for such a major mistake on my part.

I don't know how the hubby could get along without his remote at this point. It was okay years ago when the kids were home, because he could still trick them into getting up and changing the channel. But after they were grown and he tried those same tired tricks on me, I just looked at him like buzzards circling road kill. And now, with the amazing number of channels on satellite TV at the push of a button, the hubby might just have some kind of breakdown if he had to sit completely through one program at a time.

For such a little bitty thing, that remote sure holds a prominent place in our lives. It may be small, but don't be fooled by its insignificant look. The search party turns out in force when this little box is misplaced.

Although I'm not sure exactly what it's made of, that remote is a tough little booger, too. On the outside is some type of hard plastic and rubber coating that can withstand bouncing off the floor, two people tugging on it at the same time, and in our case, being gnawed by a Labrador retriever. No matter how sad looking it is with those teeth marks all over it, that remote is like a Timex -- takes a licking and keeps on ticking.

The remote is covered in buttons to push, which to be honest, I'm not sure what the majority of them control, but for engineering graduates they probably perform valuable services. Even though the remote itself is very sturdy, I'm afraid I can't say the same for the buttons used most often. Apparently, we watch a lot of channels with the numbers 2, 5 and 7 in them because those are pretty much wiped clean.

A very strange thing to me about this remote is that it has one major flaw. Apparently, included in its makeup is some type of male magnetism chemical, because men seem to be drawn to it. For instance, I've noticed in a room full of people anywhere, men are immediately drawn to this small object in an uncanny way. Women, on the other hand, only think of it when looking to perform some function on the TV.

Well, anyway, I guess the day was saved because as badly as I treated the remote, the hubby never knew. I would hate to have to go and buy another one because it takes so long for us to program one. It probably would help if we read the instructions, but what's the fun in that. And besides, we find doing something like that promotes communication between us as husband and wife. You know, stuff like "I told you it was the other button," or "I wish you'd get back out of my light." I guess we'll have to save those romantic moments for Valentine's Day.