"24" Addiction

I admit it.  I’m addicted to the show “24”.  It’s the one time a week I put aside whatever I’m doing and relax, totally caught up in the suspense of the plot (well, there was that one Monday night my 11-year-old son needed a helping hand with a ‘poetry project’ but thanks to DVRs I just watched it an hour later – three cheers for technology!)

It all started quite simply enough.  It was New Year’s Day, the pace of the day was much slower than normal, and the usual football games droned on downstairs on the TV in the family room.  My five-year-old was coloring in his room, unconcerned just then with my whereabouts.  The two older boys were going back and forth between the football games, shooting hoops, and playing video games.  My husband was asleep on the couch, our dog curled up beside him.

Perhaps, I thought, I should do some laundry.  But hey, I was only two loads behind instead of my normal five, so it didn’t seem that dire of a situation.  Sure, there was ironing to do, but I didn’t quite feel like mental torture that afternoon. 

It suddenly occurred to me that I could sneak away for a few minutes of peace and possibly nobody would notice.  It was kind of like those TV episodes where prisoners are left alone for a millisecond but they take that opportunity to escape or overtake their prison guards.  Freedom was oh so close.

I looked left.  I looked right.  I tiptoed up the stairs and closed the door behind me, retreating into the master bathroom where I had plans to take a long bubble bath. I ran the water and got out the bath oils I’d gotten two Christmases ago but never had time to use.  As I sank into the foamy bubbles and hot water, I felt the tension in my body disappear.   

“Mom!”  my five-year-old Jason yelled from the hallway.  I winced, ignoring him, hoping he’d go downstairs to find his dad.  “Mom!” he yelled again.

I sighed.  “What?” I shouted back. 

He opened the door to our bedroom and asked, “Where’s my Power Rangers SPD coloring book?”

My mind did a quick inventory of the household.  “Family room bookcase, second shelf on the left,” I replied, wearily, a little disturbed I would actually know this information.

“What side’s the left?” he asked.

“Ask Dad!”

The door closed.  Ah, solitude once more.  This was heaven.  I even had time to shave my legs. 

Eventually, the water started to cool and the bubbles to disappear. I got out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around me, vowing to buy one of those towel warmer bars I’d seen advertised.  While I dressed, I switched on the TV in our bedroom and saw that it was a re-run of that show starring Kiefer Sutherland.  Mildly interested, I watched the action as I pulled on my jeans and t-shirt.  The bed looked inviting since we’d been up late the previous night so I climbed in and pulled the covers over me, getting more interested in the show. 

During the next commercial break, I tried to turn the TV off but found I just couldn’t do it.  Ten minutes turned into twenty, then thirty.  Jack Bauer was in big trouble, and I couldn’t take my eyes from the screen.  At the end of the thrilling, cliff-hanger show, I discovered the next episode was coming on immediately; my God, it was a “24” marathon.  Did I dare watch another?  Pretty soon, my family would realize I was missing and come looking for me.  I had to buy some more time.

I raced over and opened the bedroom door, yelling for all to hear, “I’m cleaning out the closet!”  This was mother guilt at its finest:  I didn’t feel right actually relaxing and doing something I wanted to do so I made up an excuse. 

I lowered the volume and propped my pillow up behind my head.  This was the life.  Why had I never done this before?  Wait ... I vaguely remembered indulging myself like this once, but that had been over fifteen years earlier, before kids. 

After another episode, I began to feel a little strange that nobody had come in after me yet.  I opened the door, afraid of what I might find.  “Guys?” I shouted. 

My five-year-old answered.  “Yeah?”

“Where is everybody?”

“Billy and David went down the street to play basketball, and I’m watching cartoons.” 

“Where’s Dad?”

“Asleep on the couch.” 

I stood there for a second, staring at the mound of laundry in front of the washer.  I knew what I should do, but I didn’t. “Okay,” I said, closing the door again.  There were still three more “24” episodes to go.

Sharon J. O’Donnell is an award-winning newspaper columnist, who specializes in  humor columns.  Since 1998, Sharon has been a columnist for The Cary News, in Cary, NC (just outside of Raleigh) and has won awards for those columns.  She has also written for Good Housekeeping, The News & Observer, and Blue Mountain Arts greeting cards. 

Sharon is a 1984 graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (she used to live in the same dorm as Michael Jordan!!) with a degree in print/broadcast journalism.  Since then she’s worked in radio promotions, special events planning, public speaking, and public relations.

Her current project is a humorous book of essays about what it’s like to be the only woman in a houseful of males, dealing with a husband, three sons, and a male dog. 

Sharon also writes fiction.  In 1997, her novel manuscript, Hand-Me-Downs, was a finalist in the Heekin Group Foundation’s James Fellowship for the novel-in-progress division.  An excerpt from her current novel-in-progress, Bluebirds Fly, was published in the Sunday Reader section of The News & Observer, the Raleigh paper, in December of 2002.  In the spring of 2003, she won third place in the short story division of The Paul Gillette Memorial Writing Contest, sponsored by the Pikes Peak Writers Conference..

Since 2000, she’s taught narrative writing through week-long writing residency workshops in schools and is a writer-in-residence through the United Arts Council.  She has also done public relations consulting that has resulted in successful media coverage for various programs and events.

Jacob’s Ladder, a volunteer group she helped start in honor of her nephew who underwent a successful bone marrow transplant in 1993, won a national award called the HOPE award in 1997 for raising testing money and promoting the bone marrow registry to minorities.

She lives in Cary with her husband Kevin and their three sons ages 14, 11, and 5 (ages of this writing in late 2005).

Her Websites are www.momsofboys.org and www.sharonodonnell.com.