the scent of television

I'm currently not a reader. When I write everyday, sometimes my reading falls to the wayside. This ends up depressing me and I get back to it, but I am in the middle fo the bridge right now. At some point, when I'm not reading, eventually my writing fails. I may be there right now.
When I'm in this stupid place, I like shitty television. My husband tells me I only like things that are stupid. He's not hitting me over the head with a cast iron pan when saying this, so it's fine. He's stating the obvious. I do like very stupid things on tv. It totally shuts my brain off. It may be self-medicating. I don't drink. I don't smoke. So what's a little shit(s) tv?
My sisters like s-tv too. Our partners are all amazed and a little disappointed in this fact. They don't get it. Other than our s-tv appreciation, we're sort of intelligent people. We've heard of the opera. We know a few five-syllable words. We come from an opressively academic neighborhood. What's with this s-tv? What's with the loose chromosome? They don't entirely get that we're split 5-2. Five days from one place, where the Public Radio speak comes from, 2 days from another place, where the s-tv reality comes from.
Since our parents were divorced, we escaped to dads on the weekend. He lived in the opposite of an oppressively academic neighborhood. On our visits with him, we hung at a beach where people put out their cigarettes in the sand, drank cheap cans of beer, while their bellies sizzled in the Indiana sun. My father called these people "real people." I assumed this meant the people, who existed in our weekday life, were not real. What the hell is a real person?
At night, at dads, we ordered pizza and went out for Dairy Queen(DQ), and drank diet coke(DC) instead of my mother's preferred water(pop ruins the taste of food). And we watched tv, another thing we were not allowed to do at moms house(rots the brains).  We watched so much tv, our eyes hurt. We fell asleep on the rust-colored den carpet, to Hawaii 5-0, with pizza hanging from our lips. All this casual unhealthy living smelled like freedom to me, a place to unhinge gravity and just be who I was without any expectations. I never could live up to my weekday home. Everyone was some damn smart and self-controlled. Salad eating and book reading. On the weekends, I wasn't the best version of myself, and it was relaxing, breathable. I miss that feeling almost as much as dad. Course, they're one in the same.
As long as I've been alive, I've missed my dad. I wonder if tv ain't just a little scent of him. I'll have to ask my sisters.