I’m writing this week’s column while sitting in front of my new television, enjoying music provided by my new surround sound system.

Cool, right? Ha! This seemingly innocent television and its five accompanying speakers are the reason I’m currently sporting a nervous twitch.

To explain how these simple electronic devices have caused so much turmoil in my life, let’s start at the beginning of my story. I recently got a new television, one of those flat-screen high-definition ones. After waiting two long weeks in anticipation, it was finally delivered.

I was eager to get it set up and begin enjoying something besides my small wood-paneled television from the ’70s that has to be hit on the side when the picture gets fuzzy.

As I began unpacking, my excitement was exchanged for a sense of impending doom. The more I unpacked, the more cords I found — some small, some large, some the same color and some different.

Now, I am generally a technically inclined person. However, the project I was about to tackle was causing me to have serious doubts. There seemed to be no coherent directions, and I could find no type of labeling on any cords.

Surely they wouldn’t leave me hanging like this. Was I simply supposed to start plugging things in, hoping I wouldn’t blow something up? About three hours later, I sat in the middle of cords, speakers, receiver, a 250-pound television, a DVD player and a cable box. I felt no closer to the completion of the project. There was no comparison to my frustration.

I longed for the simpler days when we were content to use the speakers provided on the side of the television, and all it took were three easy steps to set up a new television and watch a movie. One: Plug in television. Two: Plug VCR into television. Three: Plug in VCR.

Images of crazed televisions and speakers chasing me flashed through my mind. I imagined my life as a bad sci-fi movie: “Attack of the Possessed TV: Revenge of the Speakers.” There seemed to be no hope. Everywhere I looked, I saw cords, plugs and directions that made no sense. I didn’t notice until later that this could have been highly attributed to the fact they were in Spanish. This was the end, I could feel it. My relationship with my new television would be over before it began. I prepared for the worst.

Then, finally, a ray of hope — through the speakers came blasting “Harry Potter.” I was at first alarmed, believing I had now succumbed to hallucinations. However, I quickly realized I had put the DVD in the player earlier, hoping that it would work.

I hastily rushed forward, the end in sight. I had sound; the picture had to be somewhere. I was determined not to let this disaster of cords win. I would enjoy all my favorite flicks with a new television and surround sound. I was like a machine. Nothing could stop me.

After several more hours of plugging and unplugging cords, I sat back to survey my work. It was beautiful and very nearly perfect. I figured it was OK that on the receiver, I had to push the AM/FM button to watch a DVD and the DVD button to watch television; it would just be my own special system.

I will admit the picture is amazing and the sound coming at me from all corners of my living room is an awesome experience. But I am left to ponder if this bit of technology was worth the possibly permanent twitch in my left eye.

When did watching television get this complicated?