I admit it: when it comes to my remote control, I have no control. I am hopelessly addicted to the enigmatic "Brain Wave State" induced by pushing the remote power button and seeing the first image flash on. When my housekeeper has put the remote somewhere — like in the laundry — and I can’t find it, I panic just like a junkie desperate for a fix.

As time goes on, it seems I care less and less what the image is. It’s the act of watching, itself, that seems to be the endorphin releaser. I used to be so selective, so discerning about what I watched — not anymore.

I just want — need to be on the couch, watching — whatever. In fact, I almost always dial switch, in and out and round about, a special kind of addiction in and of itself. I am on the couch, but I might as well be on crack. I have this craving for TV — not for any particular shows, as I said, but for the experience of TV itself.

Along with the good feelings of escapism, this craving and the giving into it makes me feel guilty, so I almost always have a book in my lap, reading and watching TV contrapuntally — be forewarned, this also can become addictive.

Reading a book expiates the guilt of so much TV watching and I think some kind of endorphins get released from the expiation of all that guilt. This gets very tricky, but I guess I brought all this up because I’m worried that I would rather stay home and do what I’ve just described than go out to the theatre or concerts or you name it.

As you’re reading this, maybe it sounds like my life is empty, but, it’s not.

Why is it when you read a lot of books, you’re considered well-read; however, when you watch a lot of TV, you’re not well-viewed?

My life seems fulfilling — enriching even — not nearly as empty as it seems anyway. Of course, that’s helped by the fact that I have a wonderful partner who, luckily, I guess you could say, has the same addiction as I do. In fact, I think of us sometimes as the Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown of TV addiction. They kicked crack after kicking each other around a bit; however, we don’t want to kick our habit — and you have to really want to or it won’t work.

I recall that book, Amusing Ourselves to Death — but my partner and I can’t think of a better way of going.