Would it be wrong to make the TiVo man wait out in the snow until Adventure Time is over? I caught myself wondering. I’ve started planning my life around cartoons, so the moment I heard the door and recognised the company truck parked outside, I was tempted to not answer.
Maybe that’s why I’m struggling to make conversation now that I’ve let him in. Maybe he could smell my hesitation. Cartoons are a funny sort of addiction, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve started projecting my thoughts into balloons above my head. I have a powerful resentment of this man that I expect he does not deserve.
I don’t usually struggle to talk to people but I have nothing at all to say to the TiVo man. Something about him makes me not even offer him a cup of tea. I want to know how long it will take, installing the new box, but I won’t ask. He looks like a cartoon goblin come to life and I am right to regard him with distrust.
The room is dark and the old box is covered in dust and VHS cassettes. I don’t offer to help clear them away. I follow the procedure from the far end of the sofa, clutching the now-obsolete remote control and dementedly humming the theme music to Ren and Stimpy.
My thoughts are tuned into how powerfully indifferent I am to the additional features of the new box. I didn’t realise we had TiVo until the upgrade was offered. The only reason I know the word at all, is an episode of Sex in the City I watched with my mom when I was twelve. At that age, any unfamiliar word might plausibly refer to a sex act.
I didn’t realise we had Cartoon Network until last week. Learn something new about TV every year.
The man who is called Harry works efficiently, but the new box doesn’t work. Apparently we’re waiting for ‘a hit’. A hit of what, exactly? Does he know about Adventure Time? Something tells me the offer of a cup of tea would make him make me feel terrible, so I don’t offer. I don’t feel very good as it is.