2005 Sincerely Sire Newsletter
to the Cleaners
Does it take two years to get your shirts back from the
cleaners? The reason I ask is that’s how long Roe says it can
Roe has been taking my shirts to the cleaners (me too) for the
past thirty years of our marriage, and I really appreciate it. I
really do. Anybody who takes your shirts to the cleaners for you
for thirty years must love you pretty much, right? But sometimes,
darn it…shirts go missing. They randomly disappear out of my
closet for years at a time. Sometimes they reappear, sometimes
they don’t. “Hey, honey, have you seen my brown shirt with the
pinstripes, the one you took to the cleaners back in ‘03?”
“What shirt are you talking about?” she replies. “Are you
sure you had a brown shirt with pinstripes?”
that’s how she gets me…Well, I thought I had a brown
shirt with pinstripes. Or did I? I can’t really be sure. She
always keeps me guessing. Off balance. Disoriented. Confused.
It’s the way our marriage works. Or does it work? I don’t
really know. Maybe it doesn’t.
do have a theory about what happens to my shirts though. I know
Roe, and here’s what she does. As soon as she sees a special in
the window at a cleaners, she’ll slam on the brakes, screech
into the parking lot and unload the laundry. It doesn’t matter
where she is or what she’s doing. If she sees a special in the
window, right away she’s thinking, “Oh yeah. Jackpot!”
(She’s always got a couple of my shirts in the back seat
too—just in case.)
Have you ever noticed how many cleaners there are with specials
posted in their windows? Need I say more? My shirts are ALL OVER
TOWN folks, and she can’t remember where they are!
I bet you this;
if you were to randomly stop into ANY cleaners within the city
limits (it doesn’t matter which city), and say, “I’m here to
pick up a shirt for Sire,” the guy would come back with a
minimum ten shirts, probably more—remember, this has been going
on for three decades. You might even end up with one of those
disco shirts from the seventies, which you’re welcome to keep by
the way, but do me a favor will you? If you happen to run across
the brown shirt, the one with pinstripes, give me a call. Okay?
That was my favorite shirt. At least I think it was—unless, as
Roe would have me believe, it was just my imaginary friend.
I’m fifty-five and there have been certain landmark moments in
my life, pretty much all of which revolve around the TV. Oh yeah,
I did the usual: got born, fell in love, got married, had a couple
of kids and so on and so on, but nothing has really impacted me as
much as the TV. I’ve spent more time in front of the TV than I
have doing any of those other things. First, there was black and
white TV—coincidentally about the same time I was born. Next
remote control TV. Next Color TV. Next the VCR. Next Big Screen
TV. Next Cable TV. Next the DVD. Next Direc and Dish TV. Next the
Plasma TV. And finally the biggy: TIVO.
You think the microwave oven was big?—try TIVO. The big “T”
has changed my life forever. I first heard about TIVO a year ago
while out to dinner with Roe. A friend of mine I hadn’t seen for
over twenty years was there and all he could talk to me about was
TIVO. He didn’t want to talk about his wife, his kids, his job
or anything else; after twenty years all the guy wanted to talk
about was TIVO. I couldn’t believe it.
He told me how you could record programs and watch them any time
you wanted. How it was much better than a VCR because it was so
easy, and you could record all your favorite programs for hours on
end and watch whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. And the
best part he said was no commercials. You could zip right by them.
I thought he was nuts—until I got TIVO…
was everything he said it was and more. I watch what I want when I
want. Roe loves it too. She used to miss all the Oprah shows which
come on in the afternoon. But now she has a “Season Pass”
which means they are all automatically recorded and when she comes
home from work, or from whatever cleaners she has been at,
whenever that may be, she can still watch Oprah. We also, never
miss an episode of American Idol, The Apprentice or The Contender.
And for me personally, there’s Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, the
black and white Twilight Zone reruns and all the other Sci Fi
stuff I can handle.
There are a couple of drawbacks however. Number one, I’m
starting to feel guilty about not watching commercials. Aren’t I
supposed to watch them? Isn’t that my duty? My obligation for
watching the TV programs? I kind of feel like I’m cheating. I
mean it’s as if automatically, all the junk mail was removed
from your mailbox every time you opened it. Wouldn’t that be
great? Oh my gosh—just think if that’s what happened to my
newsletter, my scratch pad, and all my “Just Sold” cards. It
would be a disaster!
I don’t know what the sponsors are going to do if this trend
keeps up, which it will. I understand the cable companies now have
something called a DVR which does the same thing as TIVO.
But here’s the real problem around here—then again maybe
it’s a blessing, I haven’t really decided yet. Roe and I never
talk anymore—ever, because after thirty years of marriage that
was the only time we did talk—on the commercials. Oh
wait, I take that back, we still share those special moments, in
between programs of course, when we passionately utter those
special words to each other over and over and over: “Give me the
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