[No spoilers here, peeps!]
This is the most stressful fortnight of my year.
Not because I’ve been sub-editing on two different magazines. Not because I have to write a 3,000 word, research-heavy feature for Total Film by Monday morning (I should be doing that now, actually… oops). Not because I have no food in the house and no time to go shopping. Not because I need to spring-clean my flat, or do my ironing, or get a haircut, or pay some bills or transcribe three different interviews or even re-pot a houseful of plants (some of whom are starting to suffer, bless their petals).
No, this is the most stressful fortnight of my year because it’s finale time. In the last few days I’ve had to lose everything from Chuck to Medium to House to Dollhouse (which I even started enjoying towards the end, much to my amazement).
Today it was the turn of Lost, which packed everything up for the summer with a two-hour thriller that reinforced the fact that this is one of the bravest shows on TV – as though you hadn’t already figured that out from the time-travel storyline they’ve been working this year. As bored as I am by Jack and Kate and Sayid, I love Hurley and Locke and Ben and am a firm admirer of Richard Alpert’s guy-liner (even though I think I read somewere that Nestor Carbonell insists he doesn’t wear any). I love the big giant foot statue, the way nobody ever burns themselves on those flaming torches they’re always carrying through the jungle (seriously, would they even work without some kind of lighter fluid?) and the swoosh-noise that pops up whenever there’s a flashback or flash-forward.
Lost hasn’t lost it, and I’m very grateful for the fact. But I’m annoyed I have to wait months to find out what happened after everything went white in the finale…
…which is exactly how Supernatural ended, too, so white-outs seem to be all the rage this year. Although I certainly didn’t scream the freakin’ house down when Lost faded to white, and I did for Supernatural. Jesus, and I thought last year’s cliffhanger was bad!
It’s going to be a long summer. Oh well, at least I’ll have time to re-pot those plants now.