If you were watching TV on Sunday night, odds are you were probably watching the Emmy Awards.

I wasn’t, because quite frankly, there’s really not a lot on primetime TV that holds my attention and why would I need to waste my time watching an award show dedicated solely to honoring the best of the best of television.

I think nighttime television is horrible.

I know I’ll probably get some flack for that statement, but in looking back I can remember shows that families built their household schedules around. I remember “Hill Street Blues,” “Magnum P.I.” — my mom sure did love her some Tom Selleck — and the “ER” precursor “St. Elsewhere.”

Now, my mom is crazy about those dancing shows, and apparently so is the rest of America. You’ve got some that’s have famous people on and you’ve got others filled with people who want to be famous.

The same can be said for reality shows. There are those featuring people who used to be famous and want to be famous again; and there are those want nothing more in this world than to be famous once in their life.

I will say right now, that whole “Real Housewives of wherever it is they live” is one of the stupidest shows ever created. Ever. Period.

I really thought that some of the nighttime “dramas,” which include “Desperate Housewives,” “NCIS,” and “The Mentalist,” held some promise.

I tried watching “Desperate Housewives,” but it wasn’t long before the whole storyline seemed, well, a little desperate. When we had people hiding folks in the basement, I decided it was time for me to tune out. On top of that, I couldn’t keep track of who was sleeping with whom, so I just gave up.

And with a name like “The Mentalist” I deduced one needed brainpower and quite frankly, after a day at work, who wants to have to think about a television show to enjoy it.

Honestly, about the only one I can stomach is “Grey’s Anatomy.” I mean that whole Post-It note thing was good. I’ll give ‘em that one, but I haven’t watched it since I got confused about what kind of cancer it was that Izzie had … is it a brain tumor or breast cancer? I know not.

So I give up. I have forgotten about riveting TV dramas, outstanding comedy performances and stellar mysteries.

I have put down the remote and picked up a book.

After all, bookmarks are the TiVo of the literary world, and I don’t have to remember to set them at a specific time.

Alas, now I have relinquished the television remote and offered the three TV’s in the house up to Disney, and in a house with three girls, that means “Hannah Montana,” “I Carly” and “Wizards of Waverly Place.”

Come to think of it that’s why I got a new satellite box to begin with … I was tired of watching “Hannah Montana.”

Apparently, I can’t win for losing.