My sister let me borrow the first season of Six Feet Under. Yeah, I live under a rock. I’m so hooked on it that last night when I went to grab the box set thingy and watch (smacks inside of forearm a few times) one more episode before I go to sleep, just one, and it wasn’t there; well! I totally flipped out. I nearly had a panic attack and I said all sorts of punishable by no dessert words. My sister was over earlier that day to babysit, and I thought she’d taken it back. I may have started to cry. May. have. Then, I saw it on a shelf that was higher than the shelf where I’d left it the last time I had my fix. And I was so so so so so happy. I watched two episodes and stayed up till nearly 1:30 am. The end.
Oh, hell. I’m going to go watch one more. I haven’t seen any today, after all. You know that if the gym had a dvd player hooked up to the treadmill and I could watch there I would weigh four pounds. But I’m worried because I heard that between the first season and now there was some not as good quality stuff happening. That’s okay, we all have our flaws.