>Confession

>I worked hard today. I taught kids that innocuous has two n's and one c. And then, had to tell them what the word actually meant. Then, I spent an hour and a half on a yellow school bus both ways into Times Square with 67 of the little boogers to chaperone their sorry selves at Shrek the Musical and dinner at Planet Hollywood. After a day like this, reposing by the fire with a novel as thick as a phonebook doesn't do it for me.

I know, that was a shocker. Voracious reader though I am, this kind of day calls for something a bit different. I don't want to chuckle at Wilde's wit. I don't want to brood over Bronte's tragic love affairs. I want my p.j.'s that don't reach my ankles, my sweatshirt with the ugly wooden buttons up the front and to spend the evening with Oprah, with Samantha Brown, Anthony Bourdain, Giada DeLaurentis and the entire cast of Glee.

I am steadfast and unmovable in my stance against cable television. I believe it rots brains, provides our children with valid excuses as to why they should never have to lift a page in a book when everything can be uploaded directly into their front lobes by means of visual stimuli, promotes obesity and ultimately, removes any semblance of intellectual awareness. That being said, allow me to contradict myself.

I. Miss. Cable.

It happens only on nights like these when my synapses are sick of running into each other. When my mouth can only form the words, " No, you can't right now. You'll have to hold it until we get there" after hours and hours of repeating that phrase like a chanting, Byzantine monk. I want someone else to do the entertaining for once. Preferably, someone who can't see me in my dirty p.j.'s, blowing my nose, eating ice cream out of the carton. Oh, Travel Channel- where are you when I need you?