Security cameras bother me. Everywhere I go, they're around, recording my every movement, giving the security people a good laugh at my expense.

At the ATM: "There he is again, the guy who keeps sticking the wrong card into the machine. Doesn't he know he can't withdraw money with his library card? What's he going to do next -- borrow a bunch of books with his bank card?"

At the grocery store: "There he is again, the guy who can't find anything. He's walking up and down the baking aisle, expecting to find yeast there. What an idiot! Doesn't he know that yeast is kept in the dairy section? Next thing you know, he'll be searching for bread in the bakery."

At the record store: "There he is again, the guy who keeps checking if the Bee Gees have released a new album. Doesn't he know they belong in the '70s, just like those clothes he's wearing?"

Even if the security people aren't laughing at me, I still feel uneasy about the cameras -- and not just because I want to maintain my privacy. I don't like the idea of people watching me when I can't watch them. It doesn't matter whether they're peeping into my bedroom or peeking into my shopping cart, they ought not to do it without paying me. Good entertainment is never free.

Despite my reservations, I'm beginning to see the benefits of hidden cameras. In fact, I want to install them all over my home. Not to protect me from outsiders, but to protect me from insiders. By "insiders," I'm speaking mainly about my wife. She sometimes misunderstands me.

Malathi: "Hey Mr. Lazy Butt! Didn't you promise to wash my car while I was cooking dinner?"

Me: "No, you must have heard wrong. I promised to watch your car. I just checked and it's still out there. No one has stolen it."

Malathi: "Stop lying! The only thing you've watched today is football. You haven't moved from the couch all day. The refrigerator is getting more exercise than you."

Me: "You don't believe me? Well, it's a good thing I installed those hidden cameras. I've always wanted to say this: Let's go to the replay. Videotape doesn't lie. ... There! See! I said 'watch,' not 'wash.' And look! I'm getting up from the couch. I'm looking at your car. What did I tell you?"

Malathi: "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're right and I'm wrong. I promise never to bother you again during a football game. Except to serve you dinner and give you back rubs. May I return to the kitchen?"

Me: "OK, but you'd better keep your word! Don't make me go to the replay again."

Instant replay works well in pro football, so why not in everyday life? Whenever there's a disagreement, we can just review the tape. It would keep many couples from fighting.

Malathi: "Who finished the ice cream? Was it you again?"

Me: "No, sweetie. In case you didn't notice, I'm on a very strict diet. And if you don't believe me, let's go to the replay. ... Ah, just as I suspected. We had an intruder. And he ate all our ice cream."

Malathi: "Oh my gosh. That's scary. Especially since the intruder looks so much like you."

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