The Downton Depression

After hearing about Downton Abbey for months from my friends, I knew at some point I had to watch it.  I was going to wait until the fall when we had officially moved. I was thinking I would be more than bored while trying to make friends.  Also I could then just jump right in when the new season started up.
So out went that plan when I found myself alone, with nothing on TV and the kids in bed early.  That was day one and it took some getting into, but I finally was catching on.  So I sat huddled in my bedroom streaming the first season through Amazon Prime. I was up way later than I needed to be considering my offspring are relatives of roosters and think 6:30 is a sleep in.

 Day two....  I could watch it on my laptop while Cecily enjoyed her "quiet I am never taking a nap again you fool time" watching Backyardigans.  Yes, she snapped at me a bit that it was too loud and "bovering" her, she didn't get that the war was coming and nobody may ever marry Mary after all.

Day 3... I was sleepy and had been up now tucked next to my sleeping husband catching just the end of this episode or maybe the first ten minutes of the next.  They were free and I just needed to click next, plus I found a way to stretch the cord long enough to charge the laptop and watch at the same time.

 Day 4:  It was season two and I was enthralled, calling Cecily my lady and googling exactly what a valet and footman were.  Another late night.

Day 5:  Life for the sirs and ladies was not going well.  I was getting bummed, I was late getting out of the house.  Downton Abbey was ruining my life.  I had to stop, because I literally became in a foul mood from my Downton Abbey addiction.  I will finish them, but I must show control and self restraint.  Downton Abbey can't own me.