The Remote Wars: A Hospital Cottage Story
The Remote Wars: A Dispatch from the Hospital Cottage We should have known the peace wouldn't last. When Garry came home for the holidays to our hospital cottage, he didn't just bring his laundry; he brought a challenge to the throne. Our home is usually a quiet haven—or as quiet as it can be with my nurse’s stethoscope and my husband’s chalk-dusted schoolbooks cluttering the table. But the moment the "boarding school smugness" walked through the door, the atmosphere shifted. It started at 1700 hours. The "Remote Wars" had begun. Phase One: The High-Stakes Grab Garry, acting like the holiday overlord, snatched the remote before his bags were even unpacked. “Ehe, today we’re watching something cool,” he declared, flipping channels with the confidence of someone who doesn't pay the electricity bill. Our six-year-old, the reigning "TV King" of the cottage, wasn't having it. He stood his ground, a half-eaten sadza ball i...