This post contains Downton spoilers. (aka: MOM, DON’T READ THIS POST.)
I have an obsessive personality.
Interests tend to be all-or-nothing for me. When I love something (i.e. not someone), I love it wholly and intensely – until it bores me or something better comes along.
Along this same line, I get intensely attached to book and TV characters. You know, like, I talk about them as if they’re real people.
Because they are. This brings me to the travesty that was the Downton Abbey season finale last night.
I knew it was going to happen. I held my breath every time Matthew came on screen. But when he made it back to Mary in the hospital, I stupidly breathed a sigh of relief, Oh thank GOD. I was worrying for nothing.
Then, with horror, I realized there were approximately 7 minutes left of the show. When Mary and Matthew started that lovey-dovey foreshadowing conversation, I knew he was a goner, and I braced myself.
My question: Why didn’t he just TELEPHONE the family?!
If you don’t watch the show, this post will mean nothing to you. But for the Downton fans, you’ll understand why I’m spending the day mourning of a fictional character.