Being Lost

I'm Laura.  I need a creative outlet before the burdens of the brink of adulthood explode out of my little self and splatter everyone with misery.
People that I will mention most probably:

Patrick--the boyfriend
Butters--the kitten
Chumma--the (boyfriend's) dog
Jill--the sister
Mom and Dad and Friends--all pretty self explanatory

/endblogintro

I'm sitting here watching Undercover Boss all by myself (well the cat is trying to stand on the keyboard as I type, and the dog is dead to the world on the floor).  And, while mildly entertained by CEO's having to endure what I generally do, I thought to myself, "I miss Lost."

And then, thinking about that a second longer, I thought, "Okay maybe not that much."  Now don't get me wrong, I was one of the biggest lost fans on the planet.  I made Lost Christmas cookies one time, as well as Lost Easter eggs.  I think I only ever missed three episodes.  I loved that show like a fat kid loves cake.  But that changed on a minute to minute basis when actually watching the show.
Here's a depiction:

The show starts off all calm and interesting, lulling me into a false sense of "knowing-what-the-hell-is-going-on."  Then they throw in a character from two seasons ago who we're all supposed to remember right away.  Yeah, right.  Then someone dies, or someone changes sides, or something eats someone.  By the last half of the show, I'm ready to change the channel because no television show is worth the migraine.  Then someone reveals one little detail that sort of makes things fall into place, at least until the next episode.  I think, "Okay, that was an okay episode.  Maybe I'll watch it again to see if I can figure anything out."  Then BAM!  It's 3 in the morning and I can't sleep because I know I missed something crucial, and the rest of the world is in the know and I'm not.

So now I'm content with just watching some poor sod trying to make a Subway sandwich, and I'm okay with that.