Wired

There's a long list of unimpressive reasons why I've been MIA for much of the nearly five months since I arrived in La La Land: new job, new city, new home, long-distance marriage, rewrite deadline, travel, unpacking, unpacking, unpacking, summer Olympics, election coverage, general settling-in, staggering lack of furniture upon which to comfortably sit and type, confounding time difference, unmentionable plumbing episode, are you even still reading this?

Not only have I neglected to post, I have fallen down on the jobs of returning phone calls, replying to e-mail, remembering birthdays, and all of the other social niceties that I previously observed.

Mainly this is because I found myself with very little in the way of down time during the long stretch when I was here by myself. (New job/city/home + 3,000-mile separation from husband = physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion.)

But it's also because once Zach did arrive, we spent nearly all of our newly available down time indulging in a recent obsession.

People, have you seen "The Wire"???

Because wow.

What incredible writing.

What compelling characters.

What intricate plotting.

What a stunning demonstration of the potential of television, as a medium, to reflect and comment on our society.

I'm glad that Zach and I came late to this party and had to watch the first four seasons on DVD and the last one via TiVo. I don't think we could have waited a week between episodes—let alone months between seasons.

As it is, we tore through the series as fast as our Netflix queue would allow, finishing one episode and immediately starting another, no matter how late it might be or how much sleep we'd be sacrificing.

We finally watched the last episode last night. (Well, early this morning.)

For months we were addicts in perpetual, relentless pursuit of the next story line, the next revelation, the next climactic moment.

And now, of course, we are in withdrawal.

Although with lots more free time on our hands.