I have many guilty pleasures. Many. Television is one of them.
Before you criticize my viewing habits, please know that I read. Real books. And not of the Harlequin romance variety. I enjoy the opera and the theater, too. I dabble in writing. I swim. I practice yoga. So you could say I’m comfortably well-rounded.
On the telly, I watch a little bit of everything. Drama, comedy, reality. The History Channel. The Weather Channel (but who doesn’t?).
And yes, I watch (don’t laugh) Big Love.
It’s the final season of the series. So the writers are pulling out all the stops. With every single unimaginable scenario imaginable.
I hate that.
But, I watch. Reluctantly. Because I’m hooked on the characters and I want to see the directions they take. But it gets to the point that I don’t care anymore. And I’m almost glad that I’m going to get an hour of my life back each week.
I think the writers do it on purpose so you don’t miss the show too much when it’s finally gone.