It's not good for anyone to watch only highbrow entertainment; it can make one a prig, which is why today's activity, binge-watching Thunderbirds, is actually medicinal. Can you tell I've kissed the Blarney Stone? Twice?
It's not all television though. After one episode, there is the Thursday housework to attend to, as it didn't get done yesterday. I can see an endless series of substitutions stretching ahead, like a con-trail from Emily's glorious weekend of shows.
With the house looking a bit better, I return to the set. I'm so enjoying these lazy days of television. I always take a few days to vegetate after finishing a project; they take the place of regular weekends which tend not to be a thing when I'm in the throes of writing something new. I sometimes think so-called 'writer's block' that people are always whining about is actually long-term fatigue caused by attempting to work seven days a week. It's one of the writer's traps, that absence of external mechanisms to cue one to take time off. The other major trap is of course the absence of external mechanisms to cue one to get back to work.
I watch a couple more episodes, and then something really pisses me off. A close-up is shown of Lady Penelope pouring tea into a cup that already has milk in it! The Thunderbirds team are usually so complete and detailed that this really sticks out like dogs' balls and annoys me intensely. I take a nap to get over my rage, and catch up the rest of the housework. Despite this interlude, I watch seven episodes today, a television binge probably unparalleled in my life.
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