I'm not watching.
Bah humbug! (Says this 80 year old curmudgeon).
Oh sure, I may tune in for a few minutes to try and catch some of those expensive, inventive, original commercials.
Maybe I'll even tune in to catch some of the half-time show but I hear it's all rap and I'm not a rap fan.
There used to be a time when I was an avid sports fan. The two sports I followed closely was baseball and football. But like so much else in todays entertainment world, the overabundance of commercials have sucked all the life out of watching The Game. Even regular shows which are my favorites like "Judge Judy." I DVR "Judge Judy" because of the half hour at least eighteen to twenty minutes are local commercials. Which, by the way, are the WORST. Local car company pitchmen screaming at you and half of them have their kids in the commercials (their Five Minutes of Fame), who I can't understand a word they say or why they are even in the commercial. But I digress.
One of my little luxuries here at Casa Tipton-Kelly is a private loo. That's a little separate room from the main bathroom where I can sit on The Throne and contemplate today's great challenges and mysteries and how I'm going to get through the next day. I've often thought as I am in my own little private room, how is somebody going to figure out how to get a commercial going on in my private loo? I have absolutely no doubt folks in advertising have given that Last Refuge From Commercials a way to intrude on your private Meditation Room. Believe it.
A little off the subject of this blog, we're back to what passes for normal around here. I've gotten over my snit about Bill taking all my camera equipment out and spreading it all over our basement wall to wall carpeted floor. Just where I want that stuff. It is the way it is, I just have to accept that.
Tonight we had another cognitive issue. I make Bill pudding in Tupperware pudding cups. Four at a time. I noticed earlier in the week I was missing one pudding cup. Every time I go into the refrigerator to give Bill his evening snack of pudding, (which I alternate with a yogurt cup), I look for that pudding cup. "Did I push it back in the refrigerator?" "Am I going crazy and only did three pudding cups."
This evening I got the answer. After Bill finished his pudding cup this evening he asked "You don't keep these do you?" Viola! There's my answer. I check out recycle bin and there at the bottom of the newspapers, empty cracker boxes (I eat a lot of Town House crackers with my soup), Progresso soup can (Tuscan Bean), and plastic yogurt (Activia) cups, was my lone gray plastic antique Tupperware pudding cup. Cleaned and trashed.
Oh Bill.
Of course he felt bad about it.
I told him, "Please don't try to 'help me'. Just put the finished container on the sink and I will dispose of it." I've told him this numerous times before but to little avail. He just wants "to help."
It is what it is.
I'm dealing with a 93 year old child. He means well, which means a lot but still. I have to watch everything he does.
Could be a lot worse.
I could watch the whole Super Bowl game from start to finish.
I think not. I have to make more of Bill's favorite cookies tonight.
Enjoy the game!
P.S.
I know the photo I posted on this blog has nothing to do with what I talked about on this posting but I happen to like the weird humor of Gary Larson and "The Far Side."
