After refinancing our house for a much lower interest rate and paying off some debt we set aside a little money for those unexpected emergencies. With just one of us working now, any disposable income comes from the occasional computer tech job my retired husband picks up.
After a particularly flush couple of months, we decide to spring for the large-screen TV we’ve always wanted for the bedroom.
I’m a night owl by nature and have trouble falling asleep when I need to. I’ve tried all the remedies — warm drinks, reading myself to sleep — but nothing seems to work like a few late-night episodes of “House Hunter” or “Flea Market Flip.”
The only problem is that the TV in the bedroom is an older, smaller model that sits on a cabinet near the foot of the bed, requiring us to crane our necks and strain our eyes to see it.
I find what I want at a big-box store and we argue a bit. “That’s way too big,” my husband says, but I think it’s just right for the big bedroom wall.
We take the TV home and unpack it, and the first inkling of doubt begins to creep in.
It’s heavy — so heavy that I can’t imagine the two of us holding it while climbing ladders, then lifting it above our heads to place it on the wall mount.
After what seems like hours, during which my husband removes the optional stand from the TV and installs the wall bracket, it’s finally time to mount the thing.
Sure enough, it’s so heavy that I almost drop my end while climbing my ladder and my husband wrenches his back from the exertion of keeping it from falling.
After two tries, with a rest in between, we finally succeed. “It’s perfect,” I announce, as more doubt sets in. The TV overwhelms the wall and seems to change the very atmosphere of the room.