Farewell, Our Old TiVo Friend...

Zzzzzzfftt.

“Uhhhh, the TV died,” my husband said.

We had just returned from our monthly run to Costco, where I bought a 200 mg, 3000-capsule bottle of Milk Thistle. .. I didn’t even know what Milk Thistle is, but it sounded like a good deal at the time.

“I turned it on...and it just went…” Zzzzzzzffft.

It was six o’clock in the evening. We knew what we had to do. This was the third time this 48-inch, rear projection dinosaur had gone on the fritz. With two previous repair bills totaling $1250, we vowed the next time it broke would be the last.

“So…I’m okay with going to look for new TV if you are,” he said.

I looked at the clock. Then I looked at our toddler who hadn’t napped all day. This was playing with fire. Should we take a cranky toddler to an electronics store late at night when the only thing he ate for dinner was a handful of Rainbow Goldfish?

I decided to flirt with danger. “Let’s go!” as I ushered our kids into the garage.

That was the beginning of the end. The following, as anchorman Walter Cronkite used to say, is "the rest of the story.”

6:05p.m. – We leave the house and head for mass market electronics store #1. Our mission is to collect helpful information from Young And Hip Sales Dude so we can then go and buy the TV for half the price at mass market electronics store #2.

6:15pm – Husband screeches truck to a halt in front of Red Robin restaurant to pick up a penny on the sidewalk. He hopes this will give us a jump start on collecting for our first TV payment.

6:20pm – Arrive at store #1. We talk with Young and Hip Sales Dude about HDTV, and the difference between LCD and plasma displays. Our toddler claims he’s hungry and chews on a blister pack of AA batteries.

7:00pm – Travel to store #2. Purchase TV and stand. As we wait for the employee to deliver the items to the truck, our toddler demolishes a “Wild Hogs” DVD display.

7:25pm – Arrive home and unload new TV and stand. Husband starts to program TV. I look for things around the house in need of AA batteries.

7:30pm - Unwrap the TV stand and remove contents from the box. Realize my “guesstimate” on the width of the TV stand is way off. It is too long for our entertainment center.

7:31pm – Ignore husband’s comment, “I thought you had the measurements in your purse.”

7:35pm - Inspect entertainment center. Point out there may be a way to “expand it” to fit the TV stand.

7:45pm - Husband gets on chair to disassemble entertainment center. Loosened overhead shelf falls and bonks husband on head before knocking down TiVo box and DVD player. Zzzzzzzffft.

7:46pm - Husband sinks to his knees and prays for the broken TiVo box to heal itself. He starts to reprogram the box.

8:30pm - Husband still in denial about failed attempts to revive TiVo. Our nine year-old son has fallen asleep on the couch after reading the directions out loud 12 times. The TV screen blinks the message, “Programming. Please Wait.”

9:00pm – Still no TiVo.

10:00pm – We have managed to separate the entertainment center by an inch. The base of the TV stand now fits into the space.

10:15pm – Still no TiVo

10:16pm - Husband is angry and starts sifting through DVD collection to calm his nerves. Gets even madder when he finds his lost copy of “Meatballs” and can’t watch it because DVD player is also zzzzzzzfffft.

10:45pm - Doors to entertainment center will not open because we’ve pushed it apart at a weird angle. One side is crooked. To calm my nerves, I open a bag of Baked Cheetos, mentally dismissing how many Weight Watchers POINTS I’ll have to record later.

11:30pm - Husband and I reinstall overhead shelf on lopsided entertainment center. We step back to admire our work and notice the edge of the shelf is splattered with paint. We’ve installed it backwards.

11:31pm - Still no TiVo.

11:40pm – I make it to the bottom of the Cheetos bag.

11:45pm - We decide the entertainment center can do without the overhead shelf. I ignore the gaping holes where we gently ripped it out.

12:29am – Tired and numb, I fall into bed. I make a mental note to skip next week’s Weight Watchers meeting. Next to me, my husband is softly snoring, the TiVo remote tucked under his arm.