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The quiet hum of fluorescent lights presses against the edges of your awareness. You open your eyes and look around. The room around you is plain and unadorned. Rows of stiff, vinyl chairs line the walls, each spaced precisely apart. A low table sits in the center, stacked neatly with outdated magazines that have been thumbed through enough times to leave the corners curled and folded. The artificial coolness of recycled air conditioning barely moves across your skin. You don’t remember walking in. You don’t remember sitting down. The last thing you remember is falling, falling into the ruins in eastern Morocco, and yet, here you are, in

Not guilty, but I often wish I was. I think I've quit halfway or less through maybe a dozen shows total. I'm a completionist. If I make it past the first 3 episodes, I'll probably watch all of it, even if it's painful. The next person wants to gush about their favorite tv show right now (and will in their response!)