I was sitting on my couch watching "Sports Disasters" on TLC last night. I was taking some needed time away from blogs and StatCounter, while the wife was upstairs reading and the boy was in bed. As I'm watching, the picture on the TV flickered, then went out. The sound was still on though, so I figured it was a problem with TLC. After a minute or so, I picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. All had the same problem - sound, with no picture. "Stupid Time Warner," I muttered to myself.

After several minutes passed, I was starting to get worried. I considered calling Time Warner, but having done that before, I knew that I would be on the phone for a half-hour before actually speaking to a person. So I did some more troubleshooting. I popped a tape in the VCR and pushed play. Still no picture. I went upstairs to our other TV. Never before have I hoped to see no picture when I turned a TV on. It goes against everything I believe in. Yet this time, I found myself doing just that. And then the thing I feared came true - the picture appeared with no problem. The realization made me stagger back a few steps. My television was broken.

"What's the matter?" the wife asked.

I'm not even sure my mind processed that she said anything until I was already back downstairs. Maybe, just maybe, the picture is back and this can all be over. No luck.

I rummaged through the TV documentation we keep in the entertainment center cabinet. "No emergency phone number?!" I said, in disbelief. "NO EMERGENCY PHONE NUMBER??!?" I fell to my knees.

The wife hurried down the stairs, worried. "What's going on?!" Without saying a word, I pointed to the TV. "You're telling me that you're frantically running around and screaming because the TV isn't working? You're gonna wake the boy!"

I gasped at her perceived insensitivity. Sensing my shock, she softened her approach. "Why don't you go downstairs and find the warranty information, so that you can call first thing in the morning, then go to bed?" I grumbled in agreement, and went downstairs to gather the information.

30 minutes later, the wife came downstairs again, wondering why I hadn't come to bed yet. By the look on her face, apparently she didn't expect that I would be sleeping downstairs next to the entertainment center, listening to the TV with no picture. Can you believe her?

"Omar, please come to bed."

Deciding that the TV would forgive me before the wife would, I went up to bed. I had a lousy night's sleep. And now I have to wait until 9:00 to call for help. I can't believe there's no emergency line.