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The Fourth Wall: If loving HGTV is wrong, I don't want to be right Hillary and David ó with whom viewers are on a first-name basis ó are all smiles ... until they get a chance to walk through their client's home on "Love It Or List It." [HGTV photo] Friday Dec 29, 2017 at 12:01 AM Hello. My name is Robert … and I’m a shiplap-oholic. I’m strung out on subway tile, craving curb appeal, and overdosing on open concept. In short, I’m hooked on HGTV. And I don’t need to hear you chuckling over the tasteless tile choices made by the “Vintage Flip” duo to know I’m not alone. I wouldn’t even mind if when doing repairs ... I mean "improvements" ... they felt compelled to install an interior sliding barn door — which is such a standard design element on these shows that I'm surprised its appearance isn’t accompanied by harps and a chorus singing "Hallejulah." I’ve flipped and flopped through Fort Worth, Atlanta, New Orleans, Indianapolis, Montana, Southern California, Northern California, the California desert and the bustling metropolis of Laurel, Mississippi. Nashville and Chicago and — before you say "What about Boise?" — rest assured that another six episodes of "Restoring Idaho" are in the blueprints for 2018. We have watched so many home remodels that we now have a drinking game whenever it’s decided that someone “loves the color scheme” (and, once again, it’s grey-and-white), or there’s a disagreement over a backsplash, or the decision is made to whitewash, slurry, pickle or German Smear the brick. (Bonus points for whenever someone says they want an “en suite bathroom”; then, players must order prime rib “with au jus” on their next trip to a steakhouse.) Things got so bad one weekend, when I started having the shakes from seeing nothing but reruns in front of me, I flung myself into the gutter and swilled three consecutive episodes of “Flipping Vegas” — with its tacky gold-plated bathrooms and even tackier hosts. If “Flipping Vegas” is the ripple of HGTV, however, then the Chateau Lafite is the first 20 minutes of “Love It or List It” — when “designer Hillary and real estate expert David” walk through their whiny clients’ home and offer the sort of caustic commentary usually reserved for holiday dinners with the family. (A warning to novices: Make sure you’re watching the original — and not that knockoff “Love It Or List It, Too” with poseurs Jillian and Whatshisname trying to copy the act.) Hillary and David (and irreplaceable project manager Eric) are the perfect tempered windows for allowing we mere mortals to see through to the souls of those whose housing dilemmas are the needed fix for our own gloom. (Todd ... that whatshisname's name ... .And not since DiLaMuca graced our TV screens has a Todd been so perfectly named.) As dependable and comforting as the hosts are, it's the … all together now ... “prospective home buyers” who give HGTV shows the wonky foundations of conflict and unintentional humor. Take, for instance, the average-sized client on "Tiny House Hunters" who was looking to downsize into an abode of about 350 square feet — as long as it had a full-size kitchen, plenty of closet and storage space, a large, walk-in shower and sleeping quarters that weren’t crammed into a loft. "I’m claustrophobic,” she explained. Then, why was she hunting for a “tiny house”? You'd have thought someone released nitrous oxide in our living room. There are the prospective homeowners on “Property Brothers” who want Jonathan and Drew to help them out of their current crisis, but don’t want to get involved in a renovation project. The Scott twins are far too nice to point out the obvious, but that doesn’t keep us from talking back to our TVs and asking the clueless clients whether they’d ever seen the show. These are the same types who stand befuddled through the commercial break that happens immediately after Drew says "I've heard back from the sellers." Then there was the couple on “Fixer Upper” who bought a dilapidated shotgun house for $28,000, had Chip and his crew move it to a lot across town, had Joanna incorporate his must-have ceiling fan into the design — then not only never lived in the house, but first turned it into a B&B and then (having secured the home remodel version of a golden ticket) put it on the market. For $1 million. Sure, many of us would like to win Powerball. Of course, if I did I’d get in touch with David from “My Lottery Dream Home” and have him show us a selection of options from which to choose our “forever home.” There’s a guy who truly loves to push product. Someday, I suppose, I'll be able to wean myself off of HGTV ... although it won't be easy. I'm still in withdrawal after going cold turkey on "Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives" to curb my dependence on the Food Network. — Copy editor Robert Galvin's "Get Off My Lawn" column appears in Sunday editions of the Mail Tribune.