In my subconscious desire for the mental equivalent of comfort food, I've managed to settle on comfort television.  Although I'm still trying to stay away from TV, I've recently become hooked on the Bob Newhart show.  Not the one from the 80's where he and his wife ran a hotel in Vermont.  This is the 70's one where he was a Psychologist in Chicago.

God, I love the 70's.  I want to go there somehow.  I want to live in Chicago in the 70's.  I want orange and brown decor and dark wood paneling.  Things would be in color, but a little grainy and less vibrant.  I want to walk down the lightly trafficked streets in my trench coat and hat on an overcast day, carrying a briefcase while disco-ey music with lots of horns plays in the background.  This theme song of mine would be written by Lorenzo Music and his wife Henrietta. 

I'd hop on an above ground train, and arrive at my apartment with a balcony view of the city.  I definitely wouldn't mind if Suzanne Pleshette was there waiting for me, either.  My neighbor would be a bachelor airline pilot, and I'd work in an office with a wacky dentist and a receptionist who looks and sounds uncannily like Mrs. Krabappel.

My wardrobe would be furnished by Botany 500 and a cat in a circle would "Meow" at the end of it all.

There would be no mobile phones and no internet (available to the public), and yet, society somehow still functions.  No TiVos or even VCRs (in homes), no digital cable, no iPods, and no spell chek.  People use typewriters and listen to vinyl records and 8 track tapes.  The geeks are ham radio operators.  People would have wooden letters on their walls and bookshelves for no apparent reason.  Cars with power windows, remote control televisions, and answering machines are rarities, almost futuristic.  Everything is analog, and we like it!

Seriously, what is wrong with me?