Last night my husband came into the kitchen all excited about something that happened on Game of Thrones. He was going on about territories and armies and dragons. But since I don’t watch Game of Thrones all I heard was, blah, blah, blah.
A few weeks ago after the 100th person was shocked that I don’t watch Game of Thrones, I told my husband that MAYBE I would start from the beginning and give the show a chance. Maybe I could get past the violence. And he was all,
And then I was like….
Because I only have so many hours in my day. And I’m not much of a TV watcher and the idea of having to watch several seasons of Game of Thrones was really unappealing. That and the hour of Game of Thrones on Sunday night is one guaranteed hour to myself. I like knowing that on Sunday nights the kids will get to bed on time and my husband will flop on the couch or even better go watch it in the basement. And for an hour after a long weekend, before the start of a long week, I will have an hour where no one will talk to me or ask me for anything or bother me. It is an hour where I’m guaranteed to be left alone.
So I’m going to keep on sitting this one out. Because I don’t care if it’s the “best show on TV” or if it’s all anyone talks about from Sunday morning to Monday night. I don’t care if I’m the only one who is completely clueless about the show. And I don’t care if it has an amazing kick-ass girl with dragons. I don’t care because I’ll be sitting over here drinking my wine and cherishing my alone time.
And in case you are curious, this applies to The Walking Dead, too.