I have a number of TV shows that I am almost religiously faithful to.
I get attached to the characters from the comfort of my flannie bed sheets and I care about them like they are part of my extended family.
Yes I get that attached.
I get mad when their bitchy frenemies expose their secrets on reunion shows, I shout at the TV screen when I know they are being spied on by a hidden camera and they just cant see it, and I get my huffy on and refuse to look at a character when he has been caught with his pants down playing deli shop with another woman.
Yes I'm that passionate about them.
I bust my guts to get the dinner done and dusted and the kitchen tidied. To make sure lunches are packed in the fridge ready for the next day and I even start the kid's bedtimes an extra 30 minutes early so that I can chase the little buggers back to their rooms the 50 or so necessary times - ALL before my shows start.
Revenge, The Real Housewives (of Frigging everywhere these days), Offspring, The Block and Househusbands. They are my poison of choice for a night of watching TV. Just me and them, and my snuggly blanket, fluffy slippers, bowl of popcorn, remote control and two furry sidekicks.
My husband is noticeably absent because he can't stand these shows and prefers to fold mountains of laundry whilst watching surfing videos and eating frozen red frogs.
These shows give me a little escape from my everyday. I can forget about who is not talking to who in my family, lost sports sneakers, friends that are going through divorces, financial worries and battles with our tradies and for just a little while I can watch someone else deal with all of that crap.
It's escapism, in all it's glory.
I want to be inspired to rebuild a derelict house, open a gym and my own wine label. Feel an urge to save the world from the deadly Initiative and walk the streets of Melbourne talking to voices in my head whilst wearing gorgeous to die for outfits.
I don't want to see someone I have become attached to, a mothers of 3 little kids, a wife of one very hunky husband that she has just been reunited with, bowled over by a car whilst she is looking for a washing machine at night on the side of the road in a drop dead (pardon the pun) gorgeous dress.
Why do they have to kill the characters off?
I get it, actors get tired of roles and want to move on, maybe even trot off to LA for bigger and better things. But can't the script writers just send them of trekking through Zimbabwe or have them run away with their kids speech pathologist to the Maldives?
Why kill them and make me bawl my eyes out for the next few weeks watching the grief unfold with their families and their children crying for their mummy.
I have nightmares about this kind of stuff happening to me in real life. I cry real tears for friends who really have lost loved ones and ache for children I actually know who have cruelly had their mother taken away from them.
Maybe I am being totally naive about this and maybe I need to just shut up and go back to my flannie sheets and my remote control and get over it, but honestly I really don't want to watch death and grief in a make believe world too.
I'm interested in your thoughts.
Am I being naive?
Do you feel the same way too?
Do you want death in your favourite shows?
Did you bawl your eyes out when all the husbands stood together on Justin's porch waiting for the door to open and tell their friend his wife was never coming home?