This is why we didn't have nice things...

Well it's official. We have entered in to the 21st c.
Yes it's true.
We have finally bought a flat-screen TV into the home.
Alert the media.
It's been a running joke among our friends. Making 'goggle-eyes' to see the miniscule screen acres away from the couch.
It all started with a wedding present. 21 years ago we came home from our honeymoon to a brand-new television and a brand-new VCR from the in-laws. It was a great set-up, about 18 inches of televised viewing pleasure.
We proceeded to have that TV for 16 years.

The 'tube' (pictured below) was replaced twice. Each trip to the repair shop involved me going over to a dusty shop in a strip mall behind Whole Foods and having an entire conversation with the repair man while he stared at my chest. Nevermind that I had a toddler in the stroller beside me.






So after the TV tripped out the third time, we made the humble request of asking for a new TV for Christmas. We determined it was time after the image on the screen started getting smaller and smaller, ending up like some 1950's b&w screen where the border of the screen grew thicker and thicker and the image grew smaller. The practicality of having one shipped was nil to none, so there was a check mailed instead.
We looked through the papers and the ads that New Year. Wow the amount of the check would cover approximately half the cost of a new one.
(Now before you think us poor, we are not. What we have we keep and maintain forEVER. We are semi-Luddites in that we are not slaves to the latest gadgetry or the newest computer. We rather spend our money on soccer fees and travel expenses for our family. And no, there is always something else we can spend money on besides a television. It's just never been the priority).
This was three years ago.
That next day we drove over to Goodwill to donate some items for the store. While there I jokingly said, hey we should look for a TV while we're here.
$30 lighter in the pockets we hefted an 80lb television into our car. This television had a screen size of about a turkey platter and the width of a dishwasher.
We hired our Good Neighbor Tom to help bring the television downstairs into the basement. Our dreams of having a new television were coming true. And how bright and smart and cheeky of us to spend 1/10 of the check on a bright 'new' telly.
We found the remote and plugged our new TV in.
Imagine the horror when like a dead wraith smoke started streaming out of the television. Oh crap we've been gypped.
This is why we can't have nice things.
Thankfully, the smoke was not electrical in nature.
It was cigarette smoke. Like the gift that keeps on giving, the television had been owned by a heavy smoker and it was outgassing.
After about an hour the smell dissipated into the walls of our newly painted basement, and we were none the wiser. After about ten minutes we stopped noticing the smell, seeing as we had other issues to deal with.
Not only was the former owner a heavy smoker...he was also Hispanic.
All of the language settings were in Spanish.
The story of the 'Mexican TV' brought some chuckles amongst our friends, but really it lost its charm after another year. When I'd post pictures on Facebook I'd always try to crop the hulking mass of Spanish television out of the frame. It's--it's just...
you wouldn't understand.
And it was after we invited our friends over to watch The Bourne Legacy on it this past holiday season that the reality of our spartan living came its ugly conclusion.
Jeremy Renner and Rachel Weisz's foreheads were all canted to the left and covered with a wide swath of vertical stripes. The Mexican television? Esta muerto. 
And while our friends are very dear to us, and would never comment on having to sit with their heads tilted sideways, I was finally embarrassed enough to make the request. Please could we spare a few coins for a new set?
They have a show that deals with issues such as ours. It's called Intervention.
So we decided. This was the year. We were going to bite the bullet and buy ourselves a new television. A new television, not a 'repurposed' or 'serviced' model, mind you...a pretty new set with factory plastic still on it. And we would invest in a wall mount and we would put it in our livingroom.
And as I sat on our couch with our family watching the latest Clint Eastwood film I found myself getting slightly nauseous. High definition is grand for films, but if you're not used to it, it can make you feel a bit off-kilter. I felt like a newborn. So we started on the pablum of Duck Dynasty, where High Definition just means the catfish frills are more precise.
Like new arrivals on the HDTV Universe we tread the world lightly.
And we sit in awe and remark on how defined the actor's features are and wonder at all that we've missed...
And we feel blessed.