Sunday, February 1, 2009

The Siren Song of the Snuggie

**Note: This piece is also on TheNervousBreakdown.com**

It has been a long, painful winter, and the season isn’t even half-over. I see in the news today that Snuggie has sold over four million units. How many times have I seen the Snuggie commercial? Too many. So many times, in fact, that I actually know what a Snuggie is, not to mention how stupid it looks, or the three lame, universally unflattering colors it comes in.

My kids are clamoring for a Snuggie. No way in hell, I think to myself. To them, I say, “You have a lovely faux-fur throw, or this intricate silk-and-velvet quilt your grandma made. It took a year to sew! You don’t need that cheap scrap of polarfleece.”

“But it comes with a booklight. Two booklights. The whole situation is two-for-one,” my pragmatic nine-year-old daughter says.  I picture the family swathed in Snuggies—sage green, red, royal blue (with one color repeating). All of us looking like mental patients, camped out on the couch, vegetating in front of the television or reading separately with our blue, clip-on book lights.

“Those lights are a $15 value!” my youngest exclaims. I think to myself how many book lights I’ve personally gone through. Fifteen dollar value, ha. I am sure those things are made in China, as is the Snuggie itself, probably. I bet the hem is unfinished. I bet it pills up the first time you wash it.

“You can save money on your heating bill if you have a Snuggie!” a child shouts, trying to seal the deal as I stumble from the room, away from these kids who have been sadly brainwashed into wanting Snuggies.

The problem isn’t the Snuggie itself, of course. The problem is television, and too much of it. The problem is also the weather, which has been awful, cold, rainy, gray. The problem is that I have so much work to do when I’m at home, and tapping away on my laptop while the kids play computer games or watch “Sabrina, the Teen-Age Witch” is just convenient.

I also recently broke my ankle, so skating is out. Dog-walking in on hold for who-knows-how-long. I want to take the kids indoor rock climbing at GoVertical, but I’m not sure I can do it right now. My ankle is packed with metal hardware, and it’s not very flexible. I’m not good for much, lately.

I daydream about living somewhere warm, some state where the cold won’t seep into and stiffen all the screws and plates that are holding my ankle together. Giving in and buying a Snuggie, wrapping myself in palpable polyester defeat and just lying on the couch until springtime seems akin to writing a suicide note.

So play on, Snuggie commercial. I have cut up my credit cards. I am wearing a sweater. My house is highly insulated. I am immune to your siren song. I won’t be lulled into buying that cowl-necked, open-backed fluffy hospital gown. It would feel too much like certain death.

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