I don’t get a chance to watch too much daytime TV but the other day I happened to sit down in front of the magic box to eat my lunch……and……nekminit…..I am dying. Not really dying; but the man on the TV is telling me I may be dying. Any time now in fact. He is trying to sell me funeral insurance.
Normally I wouldn’t take this so personally but this is following the guy on the preceding advertisement (with startlingly white teeth) banging on about how I need death cover in case of a sudden accident or incident that could happen at any time or my children will end up living in a cardboard box at a railway station.
Well, thanks for taking the jam out of my donut mate. Here I was just sitting down with my salad (cough) hoping for some mindless viewing. Maybe something involving a panel and Whoopi Goldberg or a telemovie staring some actor from some show from the 80’s that even IMDB can’t remember. But nooooo, here I am, with my salad (cough) having my bubble burst by Mr Pearly Whites in a blue suit who is sitting behind a desk telling me the end of the world is nigh. He is so convincing and sincere he seems to be genuinely concerned for me and mine.
To top it off one of my boys has lost the remote, again. Now, the daily search for the remote drives my husband up the wall and round the twist but I take the opportunity to pretend I am Indiana Jones, my lounge room is the Temple of Doom and the remote is the Holy Grail.
I look under the couch behind the couch beside the couch but all to no avail. By now my salad (cough) is just about gone and I feel completely unsatisfied with my daytime TV dabble. I sat down with such high hopes of a few minutes of mind numbing drivel and now I feel like the last one picked for the team.
Of course, as I stand up I realise had been sitting on the said remote. Who would ever think to look there? Oh well, back to the grindstone. You have won this battle, daytime TV, but I will win the war.
Jody Allen is the Chief Editor of Stay at Home Mum www.stayathomemum.com.au