After binging on a Lost marathon that lasted into the wee hours we are all caught up with Lost. I know the fact that I'm actually blogging about a TV show might ring of a soft addiction, but I've learned to accept it. I hope you will too and we can be friends anyway. I had planned in good faith to make Season 4 last. To savor each 42 minutes and mull them over and absorb them individually as I formulate my theories on the many mysteries of The Island and it's old and new inhabitants.
That lasted all of 41 minutes when at the end of the first of four remaining episodes I said Screw It! Get comfy 'cause we're watching 'em ALL! Bubble Boy didn't even protest, so I've decided he's a closet addict. He won't admit it because he's got my wide proclamations of obsession to hide behind. Or maybe he knew better than to try to talk me out of it. I couldn't be responsible for my actions had someone come between me and my remote.
So, now here I am. Just like all the other Lost fans. Waiting impatiently for them to feed us answers bit by teensy bit while doling out VW busloads of mystery and intrigue.
The big question I'm considering now is whether I will be able to be strong and hold off for the completion of Season 5 so I can binge on hour after hour of juicy shows and quench my need for instant gratification. OR if I will cave once the season starts and sit like the strung-out junkie that I will be, every Wednesday night, getting my fix. I'm sure you have your theory. And you're probably right.