I was sick earlier this week, enough so that I stayed home for a couple of days.
I got through the entire first season of “Battlestar Galatica” on Netflix.
Hello, my name is Lisa, and I am a binge-watcher.
For 12 hours this week, I immersed myself in the saga of Commander Adama, leading the remnant of the human race in a race for survival against the robotic Cylons.
By the time I went back to work, I was seeing Cylons around every corner. There are still three more seasons to go before I get to the end of the story — 60 episodes, 42 hours — not counting the spin-off series.
I’m going to have to catch another virus.
Raising children for the past 14 years has put me woefully behind the curve on TV watching. I’ve never seen an episode of “Breaking Bad” or “Walking Dead.” Heck, I still haven’t seen “Lost.”
Sick days are about the only time I can justify watching TV, because I would be ignoring my family and the housework, anyway.
The stomach flu of 2010 is when I caught up to “Veronica Mars” (six years after its debut).
The debilitating virus of 2011 is when I watched “Downton Abbey” (only a few months after its debut. I’m getting faster. Or sicker.)
There are only a handful of shows I’m willing to binge-watch. I have no desire, for instance, to watch 111 episodes of “The Big Bang Theory.” No, I’m a sucker for the long, dramatic story arc with plenty of cliffhangers.
Except now I can avoid the cliffhangers. With every episode available at once, I don’t need to be patient. I don’t need to remember what happened a week or a month ago.
I fuss at my son when he treats video games this way, Googling for cheat codes before he’s even tried to work out the puzzle for himself.
I tend to read books the same way — start to finish, in one sitting. It’s hard to drag myself out of the Arena to go empty the dishwasher. But I miss a lot of the details when I binge-read.
When I read out loud to my son — one chapter a night — I remember the twists and turns of the story better. During the day, we talk about the characters. We discuss where the plot might be going next.
Last year, the kids and I watched seven years of the new version of the British sci-fi series “Doctor Who” in a matter of months.
Once we got caught up, we were forced to watch “Doctor Who” the old-fashioned way: a week at a time, at the mercy of television programmers. Now we’re sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the Christmas episode, which will reveal a major new character.Although that’s nothing compared to the fact that I’m going to have to wait AN ENTIRE YEAR to find out how Sherlock survived the fall from that roof.
At least I don’t have to worry about stumbling onto spoilers on the Internet.