Monday, October 29, 2012

A Giant mistake

I did a bad thing. It was during the baseball playoff games last week. I’m not into professional sports, but even I noticed all the sports fans going gaga when the Giants and the Cardinals were duking it out for a spot in the World Series.
My husband, the Giants fan, was definitely interested.
He started taping day after day of baseball games on our TV. Hours of pitching and hitting were recorded on various channels at various times.
Meanwhile, my new favorite shows like “Revolution” and “Call the Midwife” were getting pushed to the bottom of the recordings list, sandwiched between multiple innings of Major League Baseball and a 12-hour “Lost” marathon the girls taped.
There was too much willy-nilly recording going on, I said to myself. The list must be culled, I decided.
I started hitting the delete button on the remote.
Goodbye “Adventure Time,” so long “Survivor” and sayonara “American Pickers.” Delete, delete, delete.
Clearing out the recordings list felt good. It was like cleaning out a virtual closet. Look at all the hours of recording space I’m making room for, I thought. Isn’t efficiency a wonderful thing?
Can we delete this old baseball game? I asked my husband. It’s been on the list forever.
No! he said. That’s Matt Cain’s perfect game.
What about this other baseball game?
Definitely not, he said. That’s the 2011 World Championship ring ceremony. I was at that game, he said.
I am guilty of hoarding a few shows myself. I may or may not have recorded the entire British royal wedding of 2011, the day-long river boat procession from the Queen’s jubilee earlier this year and
60 minutes of ooohing and ahhhhing over the crown jewels.
A few days later, I went on another deleting binge, zapping episodes of “Switched at Birth,” “The Amazing World of Gumball” and some “X Factor.”
I scrolled down the list looking for more easy pickings.
“Which of our girls taped a ‘Cheers’ episode at 4 p.m. today?” I wondered. Sheesh, these kids are supposed to be doing homework, not watching ’80s sitcoms. I really should have a talk with them about this.
As soon as I hit the button, I had a bad feeling. Something about baseball came to mind. Could I ... did I ... possibly … just delete part of a Giants playoff game?
That “bad feeling” feeling was getting worse.
I could be in big trouble here. Should I confess now? Maybe no one would notice, I thought.
Yeah right.
About an hour later, my husband yelled out, “Who deleted the baseball game?”
I was busted.
“Um, was that the ‘Cheers’ episode?” I called out, while hiding upstairs.
“Yes!” he said sternly. “You just deleted the last two innings of th

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