Television boycott

Ok...boycott may be too strong a word but I have begun to notice that ever since I closed my piano studio and began teaching from my home afternoons and ever since my husband brought home a 52" projection tv, my rear end has begun to conform to the size of the wing backed chair I find myself sitting in all too often watching...crap! Seriously...crap! Except for Mad Hungry with Lucinda Scala Quinn who has inspired me to begin cooking again (I even bought her cookbook!) but otherwise just re-runs of shows that I have memorized and commercials that are either trying to convince me that the twinge I felt this morning is cancer and I need to call a cancer treatment center immediately or that if I use their product I will almost instantaneously look like Diane Lane who by the way when I have seen her on other programs where she isn't selling wrinkle cream....HAS WRINKLES! I don't believe that anyone really cares about toilet paper and I have never ever met anyone who cleans empty containers before throwing them away. I don't get the new Dairy Queen commercials at all. I don't know who their target audience is or why anyone would find the commercials amusing or send them running for a blizzard but maybe that's just my age. I am a child of the sixties and while my mother did the washing and cooking the constant murmuring of a soap opera on the only tv we owned was heard generally between 1 and 3 and the commercials were about, well...you know...soap.
So I am turning off the tv during the day. I am recording Mad Hungry for later viewing and, if I don't have a student at 4:00, I will be watching Jeopardy, but that's it.  
I need for you to understand how difficult the first couple of weeks will be. From the first moment that my tiny little toddler hand was able to grasp and pull the the "on" switch on our 12" black and white television, I have been hooked. I waited with baited breath every morning for Miss Nancy to look through the magic mirror and see me or my baby sister. Never once did she say Kristy or Katey but that's ok, we watched anyway. We stomped around the living room in makeshift romper-stompers my mother made from cutting holes in old shoe boxes. Soon to follow was Gilligan's Island, the Brady Bunch, the Partridge family and oh! the glorious dancing of Bobby and Sissy! Evenings meant that our dad had control of the programming. I don't remember most of those shows but rather buttered popcorn, pepsi and just being together and if I tired of the evenings pick, I had my room with books and music.
TV was a treat, a reward, not a given. Chores and homework had to be completed before we were allowed to watch our "programs". I moved out of my parent's home in the late seventies and there was still just one television, a larger floor model, of course, but still just one. In our home there is a tv in almost every room save the kitchen and the bathroom although if I am really interested in something I just leave the bathroom door open. It has become a distraction so it is time to turn it off. Time to walk, time to stretch, time to plant, time to read and time to write. Even as I write this I see the small red light glowing on my dvr as it records an already seen too often episode of some silly sitcom. So...goodbye Will, Grace, Jack, Karen, Frasier, Niles, Old and New Christines. See you later Lucy,Ricky,Ethel and Fred. I'll catch you later Andy, Barnie, Aunt Bee and little Opie (unless a station starts running the old black and white episodes because no matter how many times you see those, they are funny!) 
Wish me luck...I'm gonna need it.