\u201cWhat time do you call this?\u201d my husband asked when I crawled into bed at 12:30 AM. I tried to be as quiet as possible, to not wake him. Having to report to work by 7 AM, he gets ugly when his beauty sleep is interrupted.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m doing research for my novel.\u201d It wasn\u2019t exactly<\/em> a lie. After I had stayed up past midnight for the third time that week to binge-watch \u201cRevenge,\u201d an ABC nighttime soap from a few years ago now streaming on Netflix, a few ideas have been popping into my creative sphere. The show has more twists and turns than a Monte Carlo mountain road, and the concept has been showing me a better way to craft a novel in progress.<\/p>\n If I had known that \u201cRevenge\u201d was going to turn me into a binge-watcher, tempted more than once to tune in during the middle of the day (this girl never<\/em> watches before 7 PM), I wouldn\u2019t have started. But I\u2019m nearly halfway through Season 2, so cutting the drip line now could cause serious withdrawal symptoms. Honestly, TV isn\u2019t my thing. I prefer to read, go for a bike ride, or walk in the evenings.<\/p>\n After the first time I stayed up past midnight, my husband asked how many episodes there were. Loosely translated: How many more nights do I have to be chased out of the living room so you can watch this trash then come to bed late and wake me up?<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWHAT?\u201d was his response when I informed him it was three seasons of 22 episodes each. It was pretty much my reaction, too, when I found out. In fact, it almost made me feel dirty. The slippery slope has turned into a plunge waterslide. Lie flat on your back; you\u2019re going down fast. Unlike a plunge waterslide, though, it\u2019s going to take more than 10.3 seconds before it\u2019s over. Assuming I watch from three to five episodes each night, the math works out to 22 to 13 days of gluttony. That\u2019s a total of 2,772 minutes of my life down the boob tube.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m just going to watch two episodes tonight,\u201d I say to him. He mocks me, \u201cJust two, I swear, only two!\u201d But I really did. Once. Then I try to tell him it\u2019s writer\u2019s research and how the plot is informing my novel (that I started 5 years ago), but he interrupts me, \u201cOf course it is, darling. Don\u2019t worry, we\u2019ll get help for you.\u201d This from the man who can watch 4 hours of back-to-back rugby every Sunday afternoon for eight months of the year. \u201cThat\u2019s different,\u201d he claims. (It\u2019s always \u201cdifferent\u201d when the other person calls you out.)<\/p>\n Then the next morning, my husband asks for an update on the lives of the rich and contemptible in \u201cRevenge\u201d and patiently tries to follow along as I attempt to untangle the various webs all the players are spinning for themselves. When I say he must secretly be into the show (which he\u2019s watched a few times as well), he claims he\u2019s just trying to take an interest in me. \u201cI\u2019m happy you found something you like so much,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not \u201clike\u201d so much as \u201caddiction,\u201d although \u201cRevenge\u201d is beginning to wear thin. How much deeper can this story line go? How many more characters will be ensnared or bumped off or destroyed or turn out to be part of The Initiative? One thing my husband and I can agree on is that we think Emily should just forget about the biz in the Hamptons and take her half-billion to travel around the world. Unfortunately, we\u2019ll have to wait another 35 episodes before finding out whether she takes our advice. Whatever happens, at least my evenings will be free for more healthy activities, and my husband can get his beauty rest.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"