The Domino’s drone has just whirred into the night, leaving me a steaming-hot pepperoni and jalapeño pizza. Nest has chilled the air to a perfect 67 degrees with 41 percent humidity, filling my living room with a hint of pine, my favorite scent. As the large wall across from my couch lights up with a projected 20K image, the lights automatically dim. My couch auto-adjusts to the “view,” position, as I settle in for a night of TV made especially for me.
It’s time for my favorite guilty pleasure. In a strong, confident voice I say, “play The Bachelor.” A countdown timer lets me know my show will start in 30 seconds after a quick advertisement tailored to an individual interest of mine.
