30 days of cable

It's been more than two years since my family made the decision to kill cable.

It was mostly a financial decision, but one that went hand-in-hand with our overall dismay at what we saw and how it affected our lives. We soaked up such life-enriching shows as "Myth Busters," "Gene Simmons Family Jewels," "Project Runway," "Survivorman" and "Little People, Big World" in the days before we called up Time Warner and told them we were done spending $65 a month on noise that was taking up valuable space in our home and in our heads.

We made it through the (delayed) conversion to digital last year with our $7-post-rebate box, which unlocked the world of Create and KLRUQ, two additional PBS stations that many cable subscribers don't have access to, and if they do, are buried under a mile-high stack of sexier stations.

Ten channels suited us just fine. There was always something interesting on at night, usually "History Detectives" or "American Masters." Julian had "Super Why" and "Dinosaur Train" that kept engaged him over breakfast in the morning.

Sure, we watched "American Idol" and "Seinfeld" reruns, and we even had to *gasp* find something else to do during the commercials besides fast forwarding through them. (We could do without 90 percent of traditional primetime programming, however. You can keep "24" and "The Mentalist" all to yourself.)

But last December, we embarked on a little 30-day vacation to cable land. When setting up my iPhone at the you-know-what store, we found out we could switch our land line and Internet from Time Warner and save the exact same amount that having my iPhone would increase my cell phone bill.

They threw in the all-too-tempting promotions ($400 in all), if we signed up for their cable. Free install and all.

I'm a sucker for a deal.

A week later, a nice guy showed up to hook it up, and a few hours later, he and Ian were making playdate plans for their boys. (Most of you know this, but my husband is what you might call friendly.)

And with the flip of a switch, cable was back.

"Only for 30 days, right?" I asked Ian. "That's it," he replied.

I'd toyed around with the idea of blogging every day of these 30 days, but — if you can believe it — I never found the time. Probably had something to do with the blaring noise and pretty pictures I found my attention glued to.

There's something slightly more sticky about cable television verses the stuff you get over the air. (Insert reference to staring at a car crash here.) There's a psychological reason that sex and celebrity sell, and cable companies will always create the content based on ratings, so I have zero hope that the (de)escalating will ever cease. ("Who are these Kardashians?" Ian asks an equally clueless me. "Are they heirs to a hotel chain?")

I also know that the number of channels will continue to grow. Seriously, who needs 850 of anything, much less cable channels?

Could you imagine if every single night, you ate at an all-you-can-eat restaurant that had 850 dishes of every ethnic and distinct flavor? Some nights, you spend 3 hours just looking over the menu only to end up on an episode of "Man V. Wild" that you're sure you've seen before.

So, we've been feasting on television's Golden Corral for almost a month, and I am quite literally counting the days until we can call The Company and kill this squawk box that's eating up a tranquility — which included a healthy relationship with television — we once enjoyed.

Of course, Julian loved being able to watch "Yo Gabba Gabba" whenever he wanted, and we got a kick out of "Ru Paul's Drag Race." I got to catch up on a bunch of "Project Runway" I missed over the past few years, and Jaime and what's-his-face are still blowing up stuff on "MythBusters." Bear Grylls is still, well, you know exactly what he is, drinking his own piss and all.

But the disquiet is unsettling. Even when the television is off, the pull to turn it on is so much stronger than when you only have 10 channels to choose from. Books, magazines, cooking, playtime, even movies are more attractive when "Desperate Housewives" or "20/20" are the best options on the tube.

It saddens me most is that when we go cable-less again in a few days, we'll be getting back to a "normal" that is foreign to most American households. A normal where NickJr does not exist. A normal where Rachel Maddow is someone you read about on Twitter. A normal where Rick Steves is the Travel Channel, and Christopher Kimball is Alton Brown.

A normal where our emotional energy, our well from which we water each other and ourselves, isn't sucked dry by the massive elephant — whose weight is at least a quarter advertising — that is the world of cable television.

I'm still not going to know who the Kardashians are or what witty observation Tony Bourdain most recently made, but I think I'll survive.