Curse You, Netflix

Netflix, we need to have a talk. I really like you and I really enjoy the time we spend together, but I think we need to take a break.

Don’t get me wrong, I have loved every minute of every episode of How I Met Your Mother that I’ve streamed this week. The picture quality was superb and the audio was perfectly synced. But I started getting worried when I found myself watching seven or eight episodes in a sitting. I got rid of cable TV to avoid turning into a zombie — but you managed to lure me in anyway.

I’ll admit it’s nice to kick back with an insightful documentary on the New York Times after work or watch Captain Kirk womanize his way across the digitally remastered galaxy on a Sunday afternoon, but I kind of miss being outside. I miss reading, writing, having friends and being productive.

And I think we both know that falling asleep while watching 12 Monkeys was a mistake.

Don’t even get me started on the hundreds of classic movies you don’t have in your database, your DVD-only titles and the way your algorithm uses my ratings and viewing history to suck me into hours and hours of dry British comedy.

What really bothers me, though, is how complicit I’ve been in your takeover of my life. Not only did I let you into my home, I do so with open arms. So, I guess I’m not so much disappointed in you as I am in myself. That’s why we need to take a little hiatus.

As soon as I finish this episode of Sherlock, of course.

— 30 —

I’m a writer, social media manager, photographer and filmmaker in Flagstaff, Arizona (and my all-time favorite movie still isn’t on Netflix). If you liked that little rant, you’re going to really dig my other addiction, Twitter, where I post as @jonnyeberle. I don’t have a problem.

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