Dear TV,

The truly frightening thing about my current life (aside from the fact that I see spiders on a weekly basis in Monterey, as opposed to never seeing them in my safe, spider-free haven of NYC) is that very much of my contentment and general attitude that I can survive yet another hectic week is based on my enjoyment sitting in front of your bright, high-definition screen in the evening. I kick up my feet, I snuggle with my hubby and my puppy and I laugh, or cry, or otherwise emotionally involve myself in a world outside my own, a world you bring right to me.

It's a commitment you and I have, TV. You wait for me all day, and then I come home and let you take me on a different entertaining voyage than the last, and you tell me very important news, and what stuff to buy (unless I fast forward the commercials, thanks to my other very committed relationship with DVR.) But you are a fickle friend, TV. And, frankly, with as much time as we spend together, you should know me better by now.

So, I ask you, please don't leave me for the summer. Wednesdays take on little meaning more than "just another work day" without LOST to look forward to and taunt me with little tidbits and clues, keeping me just intrigued and annoyed enough to watch again the next week. On non-LOST nights you placate me with American Idol, Boston Legal, Grey's Anatomy, The Office, Ugly Betty... Stringing me along all season until a final crescendo; and then nothing... for three months.

This puts my evening routine, one that I happen to love, in jeopardy. Please bring me some decent summer programming. This is Monterey. I can't just go out and do something else after dark. Things close early here.

So, TV, I ask you to try a little harder in this relationship. It's not me, it's you.

Love,
L