Remote

In order to unwind from an unusually busy several days, I thought I'd watch a little TV Tuesday night. Clicked on the set, then clicked the satellite remote.

Nothing.

Tried resetting the thing.

Nothing.

Figured it was the batteries, so went downstairs to look for fresh batteries. Husband asks, "What's going on?"

"Trying to watch TV, but it appears the batteries in the remote are dead."

"Oh, yeah. I noticed that on Sunday."

"And you didn't change the batteries?"

"Didn't know we had any fresh ones."

"Didn't bother to ask?"

"Figured I'd just surf the Internet instead."

"Instead of putting the remote to rights, for the next person?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"If you're going out, could you pick up batteries?"

"I'm not going out."

"Of course not."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"I think I'll walk the dog."

"Damn straight you'll walk the dog."

"What?"

"Never mind."

He walked the dog and I figured out that the batteries were fine, but that a cable had come loose in the back of the receiver.

Then I watched TV.

For hours.

Because there is no way in hell that the selfish jackass who finds something not working and fails to do anything about it is going to get laid four consecutive nights.