Why I am done with "The Good Wife"

This is your spoiler alert: If you are one of the few people who have not seen The Good Wife and, if you have any intention of doing so (which if you are over the age of 35 you should), do not read beyond the visually titillating part of this post (you will know when you get there). Consider yourself warned (about the spoiler, not the titillating).

When you beg/borrow/steal seasons one and two, DO NOT allow yourself to watch it all in one sitting; in fact, pretend (and you will be able to do this if you are over 35) that the only way available to you to watch a television show is to wait from week to week (and sometimes longer taking into account holiday and sports interruptions) to see each new episode.  It is extremely important that you display self-control—that you allow yourself to be seduced very slowly—that you live your normal boring life in between episodes—that you tend to your pet, your kids, your spouse, your hobbies, your job, your in-laws—that you prolong the  a n t i c i p a t i o n  so that you have the satisfaction of existing in a constant state of arousal for the entire duration of the two seasons. [This is a good state in which to exist; we are used to satisfaction; we do not appreciate this hopeful expectant state any more.]

If you must have instant satisfaction and, of course you century straddler, you must:

a) rent/download/borrow the season of 24 that you have somehow missed and watch it in one 8.8 hr (22x24÷60—If you have to ask you are not Canadian.) longest-day-of-your-life frenzy.

b) watch Spartacus

c)