Saturday, November 22, 2014


     Okay, with my tail between my legs, I fess up:  I'm an HGTV addict.  When politics get too upsetting (and there's a lot of upset these days),  I flip to "The Property Brothers."  When the weather is gloomy and I want to feel better, I switch to "Love It or List It" where the ground is often covered in snow (It's Canada, after all) and the hosts and homeowners are usually bundled up against the cold. If I need another escape to the promise of warmer weather, "Beachfront Bargains" gives me hope that I, too, might be able to afford digs on a sandy beach somewhere in the southern U.S.  (Though as someone who overdosed on sun as a young girl, the beach thing is probably not a good idea.)

     My husband is ashamed that his wife is addicted.  He is convinced that I've lost it and need treatment or an intervention.  He catches me at all times day and night sitting in front of the TV, absorbed in the tearing out of kitchen cabinets and counters, knocking down interior walls, redoing en suite bathrooms.  I've added "open concept" to my everyday vocabulary and bemoan the fact that our 1864 home doesn't quite qualify.  We actually have walls and doors and can close off our kitchen from the living and dining rooms.  I'm convinced that no one will want to buy our house.

     There's something weird about my addiction to "Love It or List It." I secretly hope that the homebuyers will decide to sell their home in favor of the new one that David has shown them. (Maybe it's my penchant for rooting for the underdog.  After all, who wants to go through the hassle of moving when the neighborhood is in your desired location, it's a 10-minute drive to work, and the school system is one of the best?  David has an uphill battle.)  Now, I do get sick of his standard patter that never seems to change:  "And here we have your lovely 4-piece bathroom."  "And step into your new man cave."  OR  "I have one more listing to show you, and it's yours."  

     Yes, the format can get old but, like all addictions, I'm hooked and can't stop myself from watching.  Maybe it's the voyeur in me: The need to vicariously stick my nose into the homes of strangers.  Perhaps the addiction stems from seeing in reality what I cannot have and doing what I can to stem the pain.  I'm not sure but, for me (and, it seems for many of my closeted HDTV addicts), HDTV makes my trying times a bit more tolerable.
     Oh, and did I mention that my husband is a cooking show and Anthony Bourdain addict?

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