After much deliberation, we got rid of cable. We are now the proud owners of a TV antenna that returns five channels.
It felt liberating and absurd, twisting the antennae around and stepping back to assess the reception. But now it feels like we’ve struck a blow for simplicity.
At the height of my media gluttony, my roommates and I enjoyed hundreds of channels along with TiVo and the DirecTV all-season sports pass. Now Renate and I convince ourselves that the fuzz onscreen during “How I Met Your Mother” isn’t all that noticeable. I love it.
Ditching cable is step one. Next we’ll combine our cell phone plans and cancel long distance on the landline. Annual savings: a respectable $720.
But now I’ve got the itch, and I think it’s making Renate nervous (although she would throw out the dishwasher if it weren’t bolted to the floor). I’m still hankering to ditch the cell phone altogether, but I’m too chicken. I see myself sprawled on the side of a lonely highway, lost, hungry and repentant. “If… I’d… only kept… the cell phone…” I gasp with my last breath beneath the heartless stars.
Maybe I’ll go through the closet instead.