Don Draper Owns Me

Do you know how hard it is to overcome the life inertia that results after realizing that all of the episodes of Mad Men are available, streaming, on surfthechannel.com?  Do you?  Because streaming-tv-related inertia is heavy, and only the very strong and the very bold can best it.

I have intentionally quit Netflix two times to date because I simply cannot handle having television shows available on DVD.  There was an unfortunate episode my first year of law school when I re-subscribed for the second time to Netflix and then lost two weeks of my life to Six Feet Under.  When I actually did manage to tear myself away and make it to torts class, I burst into tears in class while recalling a particularly wrenching episode.  

Even though I eventually weaned myself off Netflix, a similar situation occurred during winter 2007 when I decided to purchase all seven(!) seasons of Gilmore Girls** on DVD.  When Tess stayed in my apartment for a week or so recently, she also fell prey to the siren song of the Gilmore Girls DVDs.  She mentioned foregoing real food and just eating from the convenience store downstairs because she didn't want to take time out of her busy day of Gilmore Girls to go grocery shopping.  Her tale of woe (albeit pretty pleasant woe) was all too familiar.  

Anyway, today I have tons to do!  TurboTax is clamoring for my attention!  Plus there is laundry to sort, hostess gifts to contemplate making, belated "yay your baby was born!" gifts to wrap, general correspondence to write and phone calls to make, basic hygiene and nutrition to attend, and the prettiest day yet of 2009 to enjoy.

For the most part, I have managed to reclaim my life today from the tentacles of the free Mad Men episodes.  I have gone to Sephora and eaten brunch and sent a few emails and showered.  Not that Martha Stewart or Michelle Obama would be all that impressed by the day's labors, but I'm pretty proud of myself.  Someone give this girl a gold star.  

**As an aside, I recently re-subscribed to Netflix, and last week I learned that just because Rory Gilmore recommends a movie does not necessarily mean that it's super-entertaining.  Staying awake through more than one episode of Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth is wicked hard.  I know, it's embarrassing and anti-intellectual to admit that I didn't find two older gentlemen engaging in a free-form discussion about hero figures and the symbolism of dragons around the world riveting.  But is it even more embarrassing and anti-intellectual to confess that I rented a movie solely based on Rory Gilmore's recommendation?