Why I Can't Have Cable

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I always blame the husband on the fact that we don't have cable. He hates TV, and he hates me watching TV, which I love doing after work. But the truth is, the wiring at our place is strange. And unless I want the ugly cable wire running along my walls and ceilings, or am willing to rearrange all of my furniture, I'm just going to have to watch PBS. Forever. Which, might not be so bad. Because it appears I don't know how to handle cable. It puts dreams of a better life in my head, and makes me want to move to Europe.

On Christmas Day, I watched about 15 minutes of House Hunters International at my brother-in-law's house. And that's all it took for me to want to move to the French countryside. Why France? No reason, except that was the country featured in that particular episoded. The motivation? You can buy a house there for $500K or you can buy a house in Southern California (the areas we are actually willling to live in) for that amount. Rolling hills, french bread, cheese or LA traffic? After 15 minutes, I wanted out. I did some math in my head, decided if we sold our condo, and saved for another year, we can probably do this. I was already decorating my kitchen there, feeding my chickens, and deciding what type of plants I wanted in my vegetable garden.

My brother-in-law reminded me I would have to work in France. Lame I know, it seems I will never realize my housewife fantasies. But I'd be willing to work. However, it appears I have to convince the French government that my occupation would be a great asset to the country, something no one else can do as well as me. Hmmm. I throw good dinner parties, would that count? I knit a decent scarf. . . I've got nothing. That's what it comes down to. Nothing to offer France.

So now all I have is the dream of buying my 200 year-old house, full of charm and character, with a garden and chicken coup, in the French countryside. Thanks a lot, cable, for killing a dream I didn't even know I had.

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