I bought my current planner back in December. When I went through marking important birthdays and anniversaries, I wrote the following in the little slot for April 1:
Game of Thrones, 9 p.m.
I got turned on to the Greatest Series that Ever Lived by my uncle. I was in a wedding in Chicago last summer, and the beau and I stayed with my aunt and uncle. The morning after the wedding, my aunt was out, and my uncle took us to breakfast. They lived in Lincoln Park, which means when you exited their back door and crossed the street, there were restaurants and shops and businesses, including this adorable cafe. It was crowded, so we got one of those little beeper things and waited for it to go off — in my aunt and uncle’s living room.
As we waited, Gary asked us if we’d ever seen or heard of “Game of Thrones.” We hadn’t, and we watched the first 20 minutes, until we were beckoned for breakfast.
That was all it took for the beau to order HBO as soon as we got back to Indiana. Me? I required the watching of a full episode before I was ready to declare my undying love to the show. The week we discovered it was right after the season one finale, so we watched the full season — 10 one-hour episodes — over the course of that week.
And we’ve been craving season two ever since.
I haven’t been this obsessed with a series since Harry Potter, and part of the fun is watching it with someone who’s just as into it as I am. I love discussing the characters as if they are our friends, and I love getting so involved that with every beheading or pouring-melted-gold-on-someone’s-head’ing, I am left mouth-agape throughout the entire end credits or cheering like it’s a GOOD thing for melted gold to liquify your face.
Suffice it to say, at 9 this evening, I will be shutting my phone off.