Oh little blog, how neglected you've been. Just like the dishes in the sink, the laundry piling up and the deterioration of any semblance of productivity in my non-working hours. My affliction is an addiction to the all too well-known television program, LOST. D. and I picked up seasons one and two after Christmas, ran through the DVD's at light speed and have since moved on to a streaming Netflix subscription so we can get a steady supply at all hours of the day. With the sixth and final season premiering only weeks away, we're rushing to catch up and watch the conclusion unfold in real time with the rest of the world. The only way to make our self-imposed premiere deadline is to watch LOST at all hours of the day not already allotted for sleeping, working or showering. From the moment we get home to the moment we can no longer stay awake, it's all we do. I'm convinced that the cold I came down with this week was an evil plot on behalf of Season four, to ensure I wouldn't stray from the couch. What began as a suspenseful viewing experience, where I couldn't wait to see the next episode has become a heavy responsibility, taking all of our time but delivering no answers. Oh LOST, why must you torture us so? I'm looking forward to the day when our weekends can return to normal, when we might see our friends or go out for the evening instead of intently focusing all efforts on the pursuit of this series. The side effects of so much LOST are obvious: the nightmares, distraction, listlessness and of course when not viewing, withdrawal - all resulting in total weekend incapacitation.
