I tried to get HBO on our bedroom TV but ended up in our living room…holding a beach chair.
Coronabound, we’ve had plenty to watch on Netflix, Prime, and Network TV, so we didn’t miss the HBO we didn’t know we lost access to.
We bought a new LG OLED TV for Christmas but we recently learned we couldn’t get the HBO app we had through Verizon on the new TV. LG support said they don’t yet have the app in their app center. So we dropped Verizon’s HBO and subscribed to Amazon’s HBO.
The new HBO worked fine on our living room TV but we couldn’t get it on our bedroom set.
I thought I’d reboot the set and all its accouterments: Firestick, Apple TV, DVD player, by pulling the power. That involved pulling all the plugs out of the bedroom power strip. When we want to do that in the living room we just click the power strip off, then on. But this old bedroom strip had no turn-off switch. And it’s not easy to get to the wall outlet.
That started what became a bad case of while-I’m-at-it.
Cheryl, as always, offered her help by looking in our hall closet for a newer power strip. While she was at it she thought she’d also look for the exercise band I put away before the virus struck America and now couldn’t find.
She could find neither the new power strip nor the exercise band.
So yeah, since she was now also looking for the exercise band she looked in our terrace deck box for it.
She pulled out our summer items: cushions, beach umbrella, beach chairs. Including my favorite beach chair.
She couldn’t find the exercise band but when she tried to replace my fave beach chair into the box it wouldn’t go in. Even when leaving the cushions out!
She asked me how I managed to make it fit in there last fall. I tried to do again it but it was annoyingly windy so I said: “Might as well take it inside now anyway, I hope to be using it soon.” I’m so sweet an optimist, right?
I went to the foyer closet to store the beach chair, but no way would it would go into that crowded space. Over the winter, boots, and umbrellas raise families in there. So there I stood in the living room still without HBO but…I did have a beach chair in my hand.
Back in our bedroom, I leaned the beach chair against the desk and contacted Amazon.
Whenever I attempt tech support I feel like I’m trying to land a lunar module. So, I wasn’t surprised in my voice “chat” on my “smart” phone, when Vanessa told me I had to de-register HBO on the bedroom TV, and re-register to get the new HBO.
She worked with me to accomplish the registration switcheroo but the process was tedious…of course. Each step led me to yet another electronic hurdle.
I’d send a text in the chat, then when I’d be ready to respond to another, my last text would appear, ready to be sent…again, the identical text I just sent. I had to delete it and start again. It was infuriating.
When I finally got near to completing the new “registering”, I tried to agree to terms but when I scrolled down on my TV screen to agree, the scroll would stop all progress before getting to the bottom of the page and the presumed agree button.
I was so exasperated I told Cheryl, “I’m about to put a bullet in my head.” The text to customer support wrote what I said about “bullet”, “head”, etc. I hastily deleted it before Amazon sent the cops to my door.
Then I said to Cheryl, “Here I am talking about putting a bullet in my head because it’s hard for me to get HBO on this TV while so many have lost their jobs, their businesses, the lives of their loved ones to this virus. What a stupid thing to say.” She said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re human.”
Cheryl went into the bathroom and I went back into the living room. I sat there thinking of what I had said and the lost lives to this damned virus.
Then I thought of my attempt to get HBO in our bedroom and ended up right with me right here in the middle of this room…with a beach chair in my hands.
I started to laugh and laugh. Then tears ran down my cheeks. I’m not one to laughs like that, ever. (I have a sister, Marilyn, who laughed like that often and I always envied her for that. Her kids have the same good fortune.) I realized it had been decades since I laughed anywhere like this, and certainly never, in a room alone.
Maybe it was the confluence of the tension, the sadness, maybe even the joy that led to this catharsis of tears of laughter. Maybe the joy was that Cheryl and I were still ahead of this evil plague. But I laughed and I laughed at the absurdity of myself…with that beach chair.
We finally got HBO on the TV in our bedroom.
And right there too…we have a beach chair.