A fortnight ago I became one of the forgotten people of this world, and now I hate everything I have become, a reality TV watcher.
It sickens me, I sicken me, and I was sick.
But I am also a master of procrastination.
It all started earlier this year when my phone started running hot with offers of high speed NBN at low, low prices.
'Low prices' was obviously a rich piece of irony, lost in translation between myself and the sales representative, who likely had no idea of the $52 billion taxpayers have shelled out for infrastructure that has Australia's internet speed ranked a respectful 62nd.
However, I digress. A few weeks ago I was hit by another high speed deal, but it also came at a high price. One Saturday night gastro hit me like a drunk man hits a kebab, without remorse. That very day, and to my disbelief, the copper network was switched off in my area, without warning, and my life as I knew it changed.
After searching for neighbourhood networks without passwords I soon realised I had been left behind, trapped in a digital darkness of my own making.
Sure, I had my phone, but with no link to my big screen TV I was a husk of a man.
Writhing in physical agony from the gastro, all I wanted was to curl up and die while streaming movies, shows, sports and clips of other people hurting themselves, but no, I was cast down to the world of free-to-air.
Like a poorly wrapped kebab, my life quickly unravelled, as I blindly flicked from channel to channel questioning what has become of society.
Forget gastro, the real illness is knowing, or rather caring, about who is going to win Survivor (Luke), or wasting valuable minutes of my life considering which ill-adjusted blonde the Bachelor should choose (Chelsie), and even watching Question Time in parliament - the horror.
The question is; can I find salvation? After two long weeks my digital dilemma has ended, and this afternoon I will resume my rightful place flicking through multiple streaming services while complaining of nothing to watch, before settling on a Lethal Weapon re-run, after the footy, ads and all.
Chris Bath is an ACM journalist.