It was a trusted and reliable lunkhead, a 27-inch screen engulfed in plastic and dead weight that unexpectedly bounced onto the floor as 2008 came to an end.

I don't even remember getting the old, bulky Panasonic. It just always seemed to be around. But it began a slow, humiliating death over the weeks that followed after hitting the deck during some home renovation.

I had intentionally stayed away from those sleek, sexy flat screens because they looked like too much overpriced temptation. But, for the first time in years, I ended up shopping for a new television, hoping to spend $200 or so for another clunky big box.

Then I quickly realized that those days are over.

For $400 to $500, I could buy a TV about the size of a laptop computer screen.

And that just wouldn't do.

Of course, I ended up spending far more than I intended and apparently got a deal.

For $1,100 — five times my original budget — I drove away with a whole new HDML and 1080p vocabulary, along with a Sony 46-inch LCD flat screen and extra monthly costs for HD and DVR service that would make my new baby hum like it was designed.

Fantasies of lost weekends drenched in March Madness and high-def movies filled my head as I wired everything together.

Then the truth of the real world set in.

Over the next month, I barely turned the thing on as I left home before the sun came up and returned hours after the moon had appeared. It turns out that by the time I caught up with the television technology of 2006, we were already living in the battered economy of 2009.

And for those of us lucky to have jobs we love, it's obvious that the days of the Hummer are over and we have to work that much harder just to stay even.

When I finally did have an entire day off with no obligations, the opportunity finally arrived to soak in my new high-def flat-screen.

Instead, I woke up, laid on the couch and fell asleep.

There will be plenty of time to relax and enjoy my toys later.

For now, play time's over.

When you're trying to survive in an economic tailspin with no end in sight, it's time to work.

Reach Dan Nakaso at dnakaso@honoluluadvertiser.com.