Liz Kearney: the digital disaster zone
What do you do when you can't even turn on the telly?
How did I end up a stranger in my own home? I'm alone in the sitting room, surrounded by a pile of remote controls I don't know how to use, shouting at the TV in tears because I can't even turn on The Late Late Show (I don't even like The Late Late Show).
Some of the controls are affiliated with the telly, some with various household alarms and systems, and I don't know if the next button I press will turn the telly on, turn the heating off or detonate a nuclear bomb.
Then the phone rings - or at least that's what it sounds like. It's not my mobile, so it must be the landline. I'd forgotten we even had a landline. Of course, it's not a regular phone. It's a flimsy, digital one and it takes several minutes of frantic searching before I finally locate it underneath a pile of coats. Then I stand there and watch it ring and ring, as the realisation slowly dawns that I have no idea which button to press to answer it.