Obsessed

I have a confession to make. I have a terrible obsession. I am a binge watcher of streaming service series. 

As the world around us hovers perilously over the abyss, I have long since stopped turning to MSNBC for elucidation and guidance and can barely muster up the energy to watch the national news on occasion. Rather, I have spent hour upon hour, inch after inch and step after step tuning in to learn the answers to the mysteries of life from the likes of Harvey Specter, Mike Ross, Donna Paulsen, Louis Litt, Calvin Evans, Madeline Zott and Hieronynmous (Harry) Bosch.

There are many subjects that are now the third rail in conversation but few can find fault when you bring up your addiction to "Suits" (ok, maybe those who are not fans of Meghan Markle might weigh in on this particular selection) or that it feels like you completed Lessons in Chemistry in one sitting, though that is clear hyperbole (or is it).

In the aftermath of October 7th, I had several friends who were completely swallowed up by the tragedy, unable to escape the terrible reality of that day. One among these, when informed that there was actually a ninth season of Suits of which he had been previously unaware, visibly brightened at the news. As if he had been given permission, at least for a moment, to take the weight of the world off his shoulders. Escaping reality being of far greater value in troubled times.

Suits ran for nine seasons, all of which occurred, at that time, with my ignorance. If my math is correct, there were 138 episodes, of varying length but, I believe, each approximately three quarters of an hour in duration. Apart from my spouse, this show most recently became the last thing I saw at night and the first I witnessed upon waking for well over a month. When the last shot faded from sight, there was a hint of relief that I was free of its clutches. But a greater sense that something important was now absent.

For those who understand and appreciate this obsession, I eagerly await your recommendation for where next to feed my addiction. For everyone else, you don't know what you're missing. 

Or maybe, more accurately, you do.