That first morning, I woke and immediately began to worry. How would I know what to wear? What if there were train delays? What if there had been some horrible catastrophe requiring that I stay away from Manhattan?
I was having an anxiety attack. It'll be okay, it'll be okay, it'll be okay. It had been some time since I'd had to talk to myself like this. Finally, I climbed out of bed and walked into the living room where my fears were confirmed. The television was gone for good and in its place stood my new Polycrystal equipment racka generous gift from my audiophile godfather, Jonathan Scull.
But it was kind of beautiful, standing there with my Exposure 2010S integrated amplifier on its bottom shelf, the matching CD player one level above, and my new Rega P3-24 turntable resting proudly atop it all. I smiled and sighed and got on with my life.
I donated the Sharp 27" television set to the junk shop around the cornerthe same place where Omar had found his B&W loudspeakers. I had owned the television for almost a decade, hauling it with me from Bloomfield to Newark to three different apartments in Jersey City, up and down I don't know how many staircases. Two hundred-fifty dollars when new, the damn thing had paid itself off, for sure. How much time had I wasted in front of that blurry screen, lusting after Sarah on NBC's Chuck, laughing with Sam and Dean on the WB's Supernatural, learning with Charles Osgood on CBS's Sunday Morning?
No more. These days, I get my morning news from WNYC. In the evenings, I read, listen to music, do the dishes. I go to sleep earlier, but manage to get more done. I feel good.
The transformation from living room to listening room is almost complete.