The 5 Stages Of Grief After Finishing “House Of Cards” Way Too Quickly

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1. Denial

I did not just watch all of “House of Cards” in 24 hours. That’s not even possible. Seriously. That wasn’t me. Wait. Is this what addiction feels like? No, I don’t have that kind of problem. There has to be more hidden episodes somewhere that I can watch. I reject the fact that no other episodes exist. Come on, Netflix. I know you’re better than this. I just really don’t see the point in facing society without another episode.

2. Anger

HONESTLY. Who the fuck decided 13 episodes was a season? It’s all bullshit. Fuck you, stranger on the street. I know you’re judging me for what I just did, and you’re an asshole. Who created Netflix? I blame them for this. They knew this day would come. Fuck them. Who made my Blu-ray player? That’s how I stream Netflix, so it must be that asshole’s fault. Or whoever created wi-fi. Or the Internet in general. You know what? No, just no. This is all Netflix’s fault. Damnit.

3. Bargaining

Why didn’t they make more episodes? Next time, if they make more episodes, I promise not to watch them all in one day. If only I had gone outside today–maybe I wouldn’t have finished the entire damn season. Or if I’d eaten something other than ice cream. I wish I had recognized earlier that 13 hour-long episodes is, in fact, less than an entire day. It went by so fast. I would have tried to make it last longer. Maybe if I take a nap, I’ll wake up and there will magically be new episodes. And this time, I swear I’ll make it last more than two days. I’d do anything for just one more day–no, just one more HOUR of Frank Underwood.

4. Depression

I sit in silence. I stare at the blank TV screen. I sigh. One small tear sadly tumbles down my cheek. My cat worries I won’t ever feed him again since I haven’t moved in three hours. I guess I could just start “Orange is the New Black”. Oh, what’s “Blackfish”? It’s about orcas? I love orca whales. I went to SeaWorld when I was little and loved Sham–OH MY GOD.

5. Acceptance

Things aren’t okay. I’m not okay. But even though things aren’t great, each day gets a little easier. There are still plenty of options available. Just because I can’t lie in bed for hours on end watching Frank Underwood scheme in Washington, it doesn’t mean I can’t live my life. I’ll be okay. It’ll all be fine. Each day is a new day and each new day means I’m a day closer to season three. I don’t have to be happy about it. I just have to accept the reality of the situation and watch reruns of “The West Wing” until then.

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kaylatoering

I care about stuff. I'm a Diet Coke addict. I hate socks. I run on caffeine and optimism. I watch way too much TV and drink far too much wine. Minnesota native. East coast transplant. Basically, I'm awesome.

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