As there were a few Premier League matches on TV yesterday, Sunday, that I fancied watching, I made myself a cup of coffee, few snacks by the side and sat myself comfortably in the sofa. I adjusted myself and made sure everything needed was just a “bend” away. I mean practically everything needed was just within my comfort.
Time for action. I have my favourite among the Premier League teams, but you will never catch me discussing this in public. So yesterday, my main team was on the field, about to tackle it out with the closest rival. Bring it on, I muttered under my breath.
The TV was on Sky News. I felt once I settle into the sofa I would change it to the Sports Channel. And here was the challenge. I “bent” over to reach for the Cable Box Remote Control among the carefully arranged “necessities”. But alas, the “thing” was not there. I looked around the sofa I was seated on, I could not locate it. I searched frantically as I looked up at the clock for the kick off time.
Now, I was freaking out. In the process, I knocked my cup of coffee over. So as not to soak the carpet I ran into the kitchen to grab the napkin and wiped it off. I looked around the living room once again if I could get the remote control and settle down to the football match. But what started as a “small thing” of reaching out to take, has now cost me almost 10 minutes of the Premier League match and I was stuck on the News Channel.
I yelled out to my sons. They usually bail me out of situations like this. There was no response. And the realisation dawned on me, rather too late, that I was the only person at home at this time. They had all gone out. So I resumed my search for the remote control. After a while, I reasoned I could try to manually tune the box to the channel I desired. So I crawled on the carpet towards the stand, only to realise there is no provision for manual tuning on the box.
Dejectedly, I went back on the sofa. Picked up the controls for the TV and the Home Theatre. Dropped them. They were of no use for me. The “main” one is missing. I settled into the sofa, picked up my phone and texted my sons if they had the clue where the remote control could be.
“Dont know. TV off when I left,” one replied, while the other probably deleted my text immediately he received it, wondering what had come over me. I remembered I was the one who switched on the TV, cable box and the audio system. I remembered deciding to watch the news before the kick off. So where is this remote control?
I gave up. Now stretched out on the sofa, my mind kept wondering over so many things. Am I getting old? Or how do we explain this?
An inner voice said to me “You know you shall be hitting the youthful age next month. You probably are not as young as you used to be.” It does not matter. I still have everything in tact, I said to myself. At this stage, I said to myself, be realistic, you have come of age.
And that inner voice came back again, “why don’t you ask people who have clocked the age, what they did before they hit the age?” That’s a good idea actually.
So, folks who have attained the youthful age of 50, what did you do in preparation for the age? Do you just sit back and be thinking, “Oh, I am gonna be 50 years old in a few weeks time?” Or do you now live like a Senior Citizen and start all the mid-age crisis thing? Please help me out.
I “strayed” back into the present time, heaved myself out of the sofa and headed towards the kitchen to make myself another hot cup of coffee. At least if I could not watch the match I should be able to “enjoy” myself. So I need to plug the kettle.
Right next to the kettle was the remote control I had turned the living room upside down looking for. I felt like kicking myself and with a bit of annoyance I dragged myself back to the living room. Flipped the channel to Sports and the third goal of the match was being celebrated. It was scored at the 75th minute.
What a shame?
