Don't Know What You Got, ('Til It's Gone)

Today's one of those days that I just want to lie down on a rug like this one, with little Angelica Pinkerton curled alongside of me and Matt reclined nearby on the couch.  I want to lie there with the heat cranked up to 72 and waste countless hours watching HGTV while Matt tries to catch me off guard so he can steal back the remote.

But alas, Cablevision stole my HGTV so the scenario above is an unattainable dream.

I hate Cablevision.  Seriously - my hatred for that company runs bone deep; because Verizon can't drill a hole through our building's exterior since we don't own the exterior facing, Vios is not an option.  That makes me feel as though I'm being held hostage by Cablevision, which further fuels my hatred.

Cablevision's selfishness has increased the likeliness that our weekend plans involve contact with the outside world and this weekend is no exception.  So instead of staying inside on this long weekend with nothing to watch but football and images of Haitian amputation (I don't know which one is worse to watch), I made plans for us to trek into the city to join Aunt City Mouse for a quiet dinner at her home.

I'll admit that dinner on Sutton Place is a great alternative to balls and limbs; it would be perfect if it weren't for one tiny detail: we need to drive to the city because we are bringing home two chairs my aunt has lovingly offered us from her collection.

Which means we need to take my car, since it has a hatchback and a fold down rear seat.

Which means I must drive because my adorable husband has only driven a standard shift car once in his life, and it was this three-speed, shift on the column beast:

Which means that because I must drive, I can't enjoy a refreshing cocktail, followed by a lovely glass of wine tonight.

Which means that I should probably blame that on my husband for not knowing how to drive my car.

But I don't blame my husband: I love my husband.  I blame Cablevision.

I've realized that since New Year's Day, most of my less-than-lovely moods, my ever growing frustrations, and my growing hatred of life in New Jersey can all be traced back to that day: the day Cablevision forced itself into my home and made off with my HGTV.

If Cablevision hadn't raped me of my HGTV, no doubt, we would be staying home tonight and the above scenario wouldn't be an issue.

Thanks, Cablevision, you miserable f@*#$, for taking the only thing that gave me true satisfaction, outside of my marriage to Matty and Pinkerton, of course.

And to think that I once took HGTV for granted... why, oh why, didn't I listen when Cinderella spelled it out to me all those years ago?