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Meltdown

There was a death in the family last night. I’m heartbroken. I’m mourning the loss, but I feel so selfish because all I can think is, “What about me?! Why me?!”

At 7:45 p.m. last night the DVR died. Just stopped working. It was humming along nicely recording two shows like a good little digital recorder and then it just stopped. There was no cough. No death rattle. Just silence. And a blank screen.

At first I thought it was playing around. “Just kidding,” right? I tried to turn it on. Nothing. I changed the batteries in the remote, stupidly thinking it might just do the trick. I reset the DVR box. And then I crossed my fingers and waited. It cycled through like it might just turn on. But then it wouldn’t. The little blue on button faded to nothing. I had a total meltdown.

I cried. I wailed. Then I pleaded. “Please. No! Anything but this.” I yelled at my husband because he was the last one to touch it. “What did you do? Fix it!” He swore he didn’t do anything. He was just watching the game and then it locked up—he couldn’t change the channel or even adjust the volume—and that was it. Nada. Nothing.

We had about 60 hours of TV on there. Movies we planned to watch, “Saturday Night Live” and “Mad Men.” But I’m not so much mourning the loss of what was, I’m saddened by what could have been. There’s nothing more exciting than turning on the TV and being surprised with a gift. I have no idea when “Rock of Love” comes back on until I turn on my DVR and see that it remembered. I don’t know when “Lost” will come back and now I have to remember to look for it (but only three weeks in advance) and set it to record. We’ve had the DVR for about 2 years and it knows to record “Ugly Betty,” “Desperate Housewives,” “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Dancing With the Stars.” It knows that I like “American Idol” and just goes ahead and schedules it for me. I feel special. Loved.

But I suppose it’s time to move on. My husband has been asking me to upgrade to the HD-DVR and I’ve been reluctant. “What about all that scheduled TV we have? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?” Apparently not. He wants the new DVR NOW. Not next week. He’s cranky that we won’t be able to get it installed until Saturday.

I’m pretty sure he murdered the DVR. I just can’t prove it. Yet.

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11 Responses

  1. I am SO SORRY for your loss! I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. If I lived closer, I would definitely bring a casserole and a few DVDs to help you get through these first few rough days.

    Take care, sweetie!

  2. Debra, you’re so kind. Thank you so much. I’ll get over this and soldier on. Somehow. *sniff*

  3. That’s why we did our transition in the summer when nothing was on 🙂

  4. Wait… your husband wants a new DVR and you put him off and then he’s the last one left alone with the DVR and now it’s dead and you’re just “pretty” sure he’s responsible? So trusting… so naive…

  5. XUP: I know. Stupid, right? Bastard.

  6. My sincere condolences. It’s gone to a better place. Move in. Accept it.

  7. I meant to say Move ON, dammit.

    Gosh. I hate it when you have to correct an attempt at sarcasm and humour.

  8. Raino: I could move in. Somewhere else with DVR!

    Ho: First, may I just take a second to acknowledge your presence here?! I’m overjoyed! You’re back. You haven’t been by to see me for a while!

    I know—I should have transitioned this summer but I had other stuff on there that I just couldn’t part with. The funny thing is, I still don’t really care what was on it. I’m more irritated about having to reprogram everything. Sigh.

  9. I really hope you had CSI recorded on it so you can call in the team to investigate…sounds slightly criminal to me.

  10. lol – ooh girl, you gave me a scare there. 🙂 But I am TOTALLY sympathizing with you – I don’t know what I’d do without my DVR.

    My, um HD-DVR. 😀

    Looooove it… I think you will, too!

  11. Don’t worry: As someone who just recently lived through this very same type of death, you will move forward. You will form the same, wonderful, intimate bond with your new DVR. Love will bloom. Again.

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