When I close my eyes and daydream about 2025, I envision a wondrous, carefree future.

Oh, the United States just invaded Canada? Sorry, I can’t be bothered by that right now. I’m deep into the third act of The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift.

RFK Jr. just inexplicably deadlifted a pony on live TV during a White House briefing on bird flu? I’ll get to that after I find out what’s in this promising locker from a 15-year-old Storage Wars rerun.

Call it escapism. Call it nihilism. I don’t care: I call it self-care. It’s likely going to be a strange year, so I’m going to do everything I can to provide some cushioning for my brain. And I’m going to start by uncutting the cord and resubscribing to cable TV.

Years ago, like most everyone else my age (I’m a super old millennial), I made the once bold and empowering decision to cut the cord. As I told Time Warner Cable to kick sand (but not too harshly; after all, I still needed them for my internet connection), I switched my Netflix plan to streaming and settled in for the golden age of on-demand entertainment.

A decade ago, the argument against cable was that you were paying for 400 channels when you only wanted 4. But fast-forward to today, and somehow, across my bevy of streaming services, I’m paying for 40,000 movies and series when I really only want 40.

Or, as Dak Dillon, editor-in-chief of broadcast industry trade pub NewscastStudio, told me, “In the olden days you had your cable bundle, you had your 200 channels, and that was it. And now, you have to flip-flop between nine different apps to find the one show you want to watch.”

Streaming is a veritable Cheesecake Factory menu with 40 pages of subpar options that leave you paralyzed—and, ultimately, hangry. So as the world........

© Fast Company