Cable Is In the Details

The perils of cable television: Turner Classic Movies had a string of films noirs this afternoon and evening, and I ended up watching for several hours— although I dozed off a few times and missed parts of some of them. Missing parts didn't matter, as I've seen most of them before, so I missed nothing that wasn't already familiar. But that's part of the rub: I'm repeating bits of my life, and don't really need to. That sort of thing is pure self-indulgence.

I suppose most of my life is self-indulgence, but redundant self-indulgence is an especially egregious type of excess. Wallowing in nostalgia is not something to be proud of, particularly when it prevents me from using my time for something pertinent. Perhaps that's a priggish view, but if it is I'll undoubtedly never rid myself of it while I'm sitting around watching old movies I've seen a dozen times before instead of thinking things through. Cable is the Devil.

Oh, the shame of it all!