The room is dark except for the glow coming off the tv. The “gentle” sound of breathing drowns out the sound of the horrible show I am being forced to watch. My eyes search around the room looking for any sign of the remote, but I know where it is. It is somewhere under the body sleeping beside me.
I gently poke and prod searching for a glimpse of my salvation, but still I find nothing. As the minutes pass I get closer and closer to the point of no return. The point where it is too late to see the show I want to watch. My choices are growing limited, either I finish watching this horribly fascinating late night time filler, or I sit in darkness. I’m not lazy, you see, I can only change the channel with the special and my beloved remote. The “clicker” which rests, (uncomfortably?) under my sleeping comrade.
It’s going off...grown men are crying.
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