The TV in our living room has three remotes.
I can never figure the darn thing out.
Now we have a new speaker.
And an additional remote to go with it.
Bob explained, again, which of the identical remotes controls which device and which order I need to press which buttons to watch different programs.
Whatever.
I didn’t want to watch anything anyway.
The Grown Son has a new tradition.
Every weekend he sets up all the TVs in the living room.
So he can watch All The Games.
At once.
It’s a nice arrangement.
With a little Buffalo chicken dip and some guacamole, it’s like a sports bar.
But with pajamas.
The only problem is the extension cords that are set up across the doorway.
Me: You have to move these. I’m going to fall on my face.
Grown Son: *Eyes glued to the TV* So be more careful.
Me: *Tripping again* *That’s not gonna happen.*
I need a new approach.
Me: When I go down, I’m taking all these TVs with me.
Grown Son: *Immediately gets up and moves the extension cords to a safer location.*
Me: *Smug* *I won.*