Front Porch: I’m out of knees to replace

So here I am recovering from total knee replacement surgery … again. I did it last year and am doing it this year (different knee). I am officially out of knees to replace.

I know the drill better this time and, like last time, am doing what the doctors and physical therapists tell me to do. First week: Manage pain, walk a bit and do some gentle exercises. Second week: The same, just more walking and official physical therapy. And thereafter, rinse and repeat.

I should be using these early days to catch up on some reading, but I just don’t have the concentration. Pain meds do funny things to my brain, so I’ve been watching way too much TV, switching channels throughout the day and night, as too much consumption of 24-hour news coverage isn’t good for the brain either.

And here’s what I’m learning.

Never make friends with Jessica Fletcher on “Murder, She Wrote.” You’re going to wind up dead.

Rooms that are being fixed up on the plethora of home reno shows apparently all need an island in the kitchen, even if that means taking down at least one perfectly good wall. Open concept really means that people in the dining room can easily see all the dirty pots and pans you used to make their dinner.

People lie. They say they want a lovely big kitchen so the family can cook together. I know not a single person, older or younger, who does communal cooking, except for everyone tearing into the just-delivered pizza boxes all at once.

Big Pharma incessantly reminds you that there is a potion or pill that cures whatever you’ve got, even if you never heard of the thing. Just ask your doctor for the unpronounceable medication, some of which are counter intuitive, like the one for depression that can have the side effect of causing suicidal thoughts.

Sports coverage has waaaay too much pointless chatter.

All the good stuff is streaming, and multiple subscriptions must be had to get what you want. There must be an easier way.

Weathermen on news shows can be funny and pudgy. Weatherwomen cannot.

Peter Falk and Tony Shaloub are still great in “Columbo” and “Monk,” even in the middle of the night.

All remodeled bathrooms require a shower with overhead as well wall-mounted showerheads and must be large enough for the entire family. If the idea is to be able to party in there with a friend, that can be accomplished in a regular-sized shower stall. Trust me on that.

There is no such thing as watching too much football.

Everybody on a soap opera or Hallmark program dresses impeccably. All shirts are crisply ironed. Earrings abound, even when a female character is allegedly scrubbing toilets, and all garments are color coordinated. When a male character is supposed to be a country guy, he wears overalls or a checked shirt; an urban dweller, who is clearly more sensitive, has an ear stud and comes home early to change the baby’s diapers.

There are too many talk shows. Honestly, some of them are just babble.

And when did the so-called serious news or talk shows make hawking merchandise a regular part of their programming?

Cooking shows have gotten kinder. And I’ve fallen in love with The Great British Bake Off and the lovely variety of bakers who compete. On the recent 14th season I was pulling so hard for Tasha to win.

Reality shows are less and less real and seem more and more scripted. Do crab fishermen really whoop joyously with every heavily-laden pot they pull from the sea? Does every home buyer really comment on the natural light in a room? I always thought it was sunlight coming in, and I never got the memo that it’s not called that anymore.

I still love Grover on “Sesame Street.”

Video clips are shown everywhere of heavy people breaking diving boards, snow falling off roofs in big chunks and animals doing … well, anything. Over and over. These are supposed to make me laugh, I think. They don’t. Not sure if I’m now solidly a curmudgeon, or it’s the meds.

Netflix is worth the money.

There is an East Coast weather bias. National news puts up warnings about blizzard conditions about to hit the plains states on their way to the Atlantic states. Never mind that those same conditions just came through our neck of the woods to get this meteorological snowball rolling. Footage of rain storms and flooding is largely from East Coast cities, unless there a good old massive mud slide that takes out a hillside and highway in California.

(OK, I realize I’m getting mean now. Might be time for another pain pill.)

Soon, with any luck, my interest in reading with reignite and I’ll also be out in the world again. Judge Judy, Whoopi, Candace Cameron Bure and all the rest will have to carry on without me.

However, whenever my recliner beckons, I think I’ll tune in to the original Bake Off and work my way forward through the seasons. After all, my Netflix membership is all paid up.

Voices correspondent Stefanie Pettit can be reached by e-mail at upwindsailor@comcast.net