I am a little embarrassed to admit it, but I have an addiction. I’m guilty. I go on binges. I have fallen victim to… Netflix.
It started out as an occasional movie, using my son’s account. Living in the country, we don’t have unlimited access to the Internet like city dwellers, so I was very cautious with my viewing habits.
Apparently someone somewhere decided those of us living in rural areas aren’t entitled to the same access to the world via that magical blue cable connected to our computers as citizens within the confines of an invisible city boundary — and I scream “NOT FAIR!”
So anyway…
I received a call from girl-child. Netflix offers a 30-day free trial and her 30 days were up. Being a bit stingy with her money, instead of paying the $7.99 monthly fee to continue her subscription, she wanted me to sign up for the service for the free month’s trial, so she could continue watching the streaming programs using my account. Ok, no problem.
That’s when things went south. After all, if I had a free month, I should benefit from it. Right? So I found different movies and shows to watch, and monitored my Internet usage closely.
Eventually I saw the $7.99 charged to my bank account. Well, shoot, I didn’t get it canceled in time, but whatever. I’ll just continue to watch a few movies for the next month to get my money’s worth and THEN cancel. No biggy.
But that’s how it got me. I had been well within my allotted Fair Access Policy agreement, meaning I was using my share of Internet time properly according to my service provider. So, that meant I could watch even more programming from my computer.
Then it happened, and I can’t even tell you how I stumbled across it. I found a Spanish program on Netflix called “Grand Hotel.” What makes it even crazier, I don’t speak Spanish! I still have to have the volume turned way up when I watch. Fortunately for me, it’s subtitled.
I think the picture on the Netflix menu probably caught my eye, since I may have been having withdrawals from “Downton Abbey” ending one of its way-to-short seasons.
The photo showed the elegantly coiffed owners of the Grand Hotel in 1905, with the servants standing sullen and sober behind them.
Let me tell you, those Spanish folks know how to write. I was hooked. And boy did my Internet usage spike. I was pushing my limits and I knew it. However, our Internet service provider ‘gives’ us bonus time on the Internet… from 3 to 8 a.m. Bwaahahaha! And so it began, my shameful middle-of-the-night ritual. I’m on Season 3 — the final season — ready to watch episode 64 of 66 of those delicious one-hour installments.
Yesterday when I got home from work I checked on the remaining availability of my Internet usage. NOOOOO! I’d reached my download threshold! I broke out in a cold sweat. My pulse started racing. My mouth was suddenly dry. I’M OUT OF GIGABYTES!
I’ve been forced to see the error of my ways. Time to take a deep breath, get back to my Kindle and read. But wait, I just noticed the calendar. My Internet resets Saturday. I’ll be heading back to the “Grand Hotel” this weekend!
Ummm… hold on a second… did I say episode 64 of 66? NOOOOO!