April 22, 2005
I must apologize for not posting for nearly a week there. You see, I was not at all well; I was fully in the throes of my Netflix subscription. They just kept coming. No sooner had I watched one than another was in the mail, it’s bright red wrapper mocking my lack of free time.
“Just try and get through me this evening,” it taunted. “I have special features.”
But I persisted. I diligently watched the movies and sent them back. Sometimes, on weekends, I even caught up for a time. But then Monday would bring even more crimson envelopes to my door. Despite my nigh-herculean efforts, my queue continued to grow. The inexorable march of the mailman could do nothing to stem its relentless climb.
“You have rated 3462 movies.”
With a heavy heart, I watched as the cursor moved over to the “Rate More” link. And I began to despair.
“You may watch one, but you’ll never watch us all.”
I resisted caching movies on my hard drive so I could cut my turnaround down to less than a day.
“That,” I said to myself, “is the last step into the chasm of digital packrattery.”
It was getting bad. I had begun talking to myself.