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Albatross, thy name is DVR. It is the thing that turned TV into homework, ruthlessly cataloging my failings in the form of a queue that never dies. When the old DVR had to be returned before moving, 30 or so hours of unwatched programming went with it. (Apologies to the Kardashian-Humphries wedding. I just couldn’t.)
Stumbling onto oddball TV used to be one of my great pleasures, but the urge to keep up with too many shows necessitated a recording tool that allowed for viewing flexibility, and then that same tool, by constantly reminding me how behind I was, became the thing that made life the most inflexible.
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