Seriesukkel

This week I had a cozy evening with my love. Fireplace on, glasses filled. I dove into our DVD collection and came up with a stack of fresh ones for the room. On top of the best high stack of movies we had never seen, I had placed Brideshead Revisited. We have seen that a sloppy 148 times. So that’s what we chose. But you could already feel that coming.

Give me an evening of relaxation and the chance is almost certain that I’ll squeeze in an episode of Sex and the City. Or Borgen. But that’s where it ends. To somewhat powder my guilt, I set it to Italian with Italian subtitles. So at least there’s still something happening in my brain cells.

Of course, I wonder why I do that. And I have an answer for it. When you’re in a certain mood, you want to watch something that matches that feeling. If I go to Paris, I choose season six of Sex and the City. For inspiration. Just like you put on Norah Jones or Adele during dinner. Incredibly cliché, I know, but you can’t go wrong.

Because my colleagues have already laughed through Homeland, The Killing, The Bridge, and Orange is the New Black, it’s time for me to catch up. To make my move. So this week I already watched Io Non Ho Paura. A movie I bought seven years ago and that was always rejected because we, good guess, kept choosing a movie we had already seen seventeen times.

And tonight House of Cards goes in the device. Season 1. Risk-taker that I am.