Cable? Not So Able

In accordance with Murphy’s Law, the installation of cable has become a non-event. With our living room being more of a bunker than a generally accessible domain for comfortable existence, it seems not one but TWO walls will need drilling to install the cable. They would need to run the wire through my room into the living room, potentially causing damage to the brick work. Of course, in a rental abode, they can’t proceed without landlord’s consent. So now the question has to be put to the real estate agent, who tends to be a slack arse in every regard except reprimands for late rent.

I could simply run the cable into my room and have it all to myself – and it’s a tempting proposition because of how much easier it would make everything – but that seems inherently selfish to me, and causes me to break out into worry warts. Besides, I want to share in the glory of the paid-for television! I want to convert cohorts to cartoons, I want to wallow in wastrels wearing waistcoats, I want to agitate with aggravated alliteration! And mostly, I want to do it in the living room – nee sheltered bunker – where we can enjoy the whole thing as a communal experience.

But if I’m contracted to have cable one way or another, and I can’t have it installed in my living room, I guess it’ll be a case of sticking it in my room and – gasp – having to keep the damn thing clean, so I can invite everyone in to watch the latest episode of whatever mind-numbing glory I get hopelessly addicted to.

Let’s just hope I can bring it about sooner rather than later. I was really looking forward to writing this weekend off on hours upon hours of TV. Now it’ll just have to be hours upon hours of Internet.

*siiiiiiiigh*