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Today has been quiet. My parents took off for a few days, allowing me time to fetch golf shoes out of the garage. There is yet another note on the counter, reminding me about the golf shoes, followed by a few other items. Actually, there are about fifteen bullets on this list. One is for the shoes, and fourteen are instructions on how to use the remote control for the television.
The remote control is a monster. I know how to use it, but I’m pretty sure my folks regularly forget as there have been two altercations around the television since I moved in. One of the altercations was the result of the mutual hate for commercials my parents share. When their show goes to a commercial break, my folks put the entire entertainment system on mute. Unfortunately, with a touch-screen remote control that looks like a ten-year old palm pilot and a seven component entertainment system in the mix, disabling mute doesn’t always work out as planned. Nobody wants to blow the eight speakers that ensure that Grey’s Anatomy is experienced in true digital surround sound, so the resolution process mimics the disarming of a bomb. The room is locked down to ensure that nobody gets hurt. My father confiscates the remote from my mother to isolate all the variables that could be causing this disruption. A button is pressed with careful precision…followed by suspense as the bystanders await their fate. My father continues to twist various dials and check connections, while anticipation spreads through the room as we prepare for some sort of speaker explosion or technical meltdown. In the distance I think I hear the sirens of the backup team arriving. Then it happens…
…the volume slowly makers itself noticeable to the human ear and my folks return to their respectable places on the couch. No lives lost today.
Only 146 days left.
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150 Days 
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