A string of blue fairylights throw their light over the bay - they may be too bright and glaring for my neighbours' liking but this dark winter needs all the light it can get - and a storm is brewing.
I pull a blanket over me and wonder what to do about my broken TV.
It's not that I'm at a loss what to do without it. I still have my laptop and I never actually watched much TV anyway.
But so much of what's going on in a nation is condensed into that TV. You turn it on for a few minutes in the evening and have a quick look at what's on - and you have a basic overview of what people are talking about right now, or indirectly thinking about.
I have lived in foreign countries, and in my own country as a foreigner, and I always found that I never really got the hang of society until I got myself a TV - no matter how much I read the papers and hung out with people, I always felt like an outsider.
So I acquired a TV, used it for anthropological and social studies a few minutes every evening, and then went back to my books and favourite DVDs feeling much more at home.
The anti-consumerist in me wonders why I should fork out precious money on a new TV. The minimalist in me says the livingroom looks much better without a large screen in a prominent spot (and the bedroom is definitely no place for it). The ultra-minimalist vagabond in me suggests using the laptop for TV as well as everything else (and getting rid of the flat and living a bohemian life in a camper, but the Finnish winters don't encourage it).
The curious, social creature in me craves a TV.
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