Home Theater

On Mother’s Day, Andy walked into Best Buy to purchase a battery charger and walked out with home theater.

“I saved $45,” he stated, as I walked up to him at the cashier’s desk.

“It's too good a deal to pass up,” echoed the cashier.

“I bought the same system last week,” chimed in a salesman standing behind the cashier.

I glared at the salesmen, then looked back at Andy. “What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

The last time Andy played with a home theater, he installed a "soundbar" underneath our gigantic TV, which he purchased two years ago when I was away on business. I found out about this new TV when Sam squealed into the phone, “Guess what, Mom? I got to ride in the front seat of the car today!”

She was 6, and the TV filled the entire back end of our Toyota Highlander with the rear seats folded down.

“What’s wrong with the TV’s built-in speakers?” I asked Andy when he purchased that soundbar.

“Nothing,” he said. “The soundbar will just improve the audio experience.”

Audio experience? I never thought of TV as offering an “audio experience.”

After installing the center soundbar under the TV, he was intrigued that only the TV voices came out of it, while the rest of the noise emanated from the TV’s built-in speakers. I couldn’t tell the difference.

Surround sound is another matter though. It feels like a home invasion. I don’t want Jon Stewart to sneak up behind me or feel as if I’m in the front row at American Idol.

“You’ll like it,” he kept insisting. Just like I like the high-definition TV, he reminded me. OK, so yes, we can see the tennis ball when we’re watching Wimbledon. And the fact that Maria Sharapova has acne scars on her chin.

Standing at the cashier in Best Buy, I let loose with a volley of passive-aggressive teasing: “Ah, nice battery charger” and “Happy Mother’s Day to me.”

He exhaled, then declared: “I’ve wanted this for years, and I’m buying it.”

OK, then.

I didn’t speak much at dinner. I was quietly fuming that I never just saunter into a furniture store and purchase new sofas — granted $200 home theater speakers are a far cry from the cost of new living room furniture.

In our 11 years of marriage, the only furniture I have purchased is a $29.95 faux suede ottoman at Bed Bath & Beyond. It sits in front of a musty hand-me-down leather chair from my in-laws.

Andy isn’t bothered by our mismatched, musty furniture. It’s well-built furniture, he insists — better than what we could buy at the local Sofas-N-More. Left to himself — with no wife or child to accommodate — he could live in a cave, as long as it had a big-screen HD TV, cable, one comfortable chair, a refrigerator, the fastest Internet connection available, and a shower the size of a locker room. Oh, and a bed. With a TempurPedic mattress and pillow.

And home theater.

Of all his tech-y purchases, this one just hasn’t worked for me. Watching baseball the other night, I kept thinking I heard a cat fight and hit mute to see where it was coming from. It took three tries before I realized it was the fans at Fenway cheering from the mantelpiece. Then, watching the Grey’s Anatomy season finale, I heard a droning sound that was either a helicopter overhead or the furnace about to explode. Mood music, I realized, the second time I hit mute.

And yes, Sam has asked us to turn down the TV so she can sleep. At that low volume, I can hear the droning and the cat-fight-like sounds, but not any words being spoken.

Mostly though, I’ve kept my complaints to myself. Without Andy’s tech savvy, I would own an unreliable PC infected with viruses, a 10-year-old cell phone with no texting or email capabilities, and a 25-year-old TV with 13 push-button channels and no remote.

But if sofas came with built-in speakers, would I have new furniture too?