Oh, As Usual, Dear (or, There Is a Great Big Buffy-Sized Hole in My Life)

I'm not a big TV watcher these days. That's not an especially lamentable state of affairs, except that the only things I'm doing to fill the space once occupied by excessive TV watching are 1) getting my kids to fall asleep, 2) sleeping, and 3) getting my kids to go back to sleep.

This too shall pass, I know. But when the time comes that my evenings can be spent on more productive or enjoyable tasks, there still won't be anything to watch. Not like back in the day---you know, the day when ER wasn't a joke, when The West Wing was still being written by Aaron Sorkin, when Buffy the Vampire Slayer was, well, around.

I miss Buffy.

It's pathetic, really, that I still miss a show that's been off the air for almost 2 years. But I haven't seen anything out there since that comes even close to matching it. No, I don’t have HBO, so no Sopranos or Six Feet Under for me. Yes, I concede that the last season of Buffy was just cataclysmically bad. And yet.

I never descended too far into the online realm of the Buffyverse (it’s kind of scary in there), but my semi-obsession provided ample fodder for gentle ribbing on Jeff's part. Now that so much time has passed since the last show, I'm no longer obsessing. That's a good thing. And maybe Joss Whedon will surface again with another brilliant TV show and equally brilliant writing. Till then, what's a gal to do? Oh, right---fall asleep in my son's room to the soporific tunes on his lullaby CD.