About eight years ago we began the sporadic after-dinner ritual of rushing into the living room and flinging ourselves, Simpsons style, all onto the brown couch and always in the same order:
person/dog/person/dog/person.
The brown couch has long since replaced, and we've each staked our claims on the purple couch (him), the yellow chair (her), the red love seat (me) and several dog beds (them, not their choice, really). But the other elements of the ritual remained. We always watched the entire opening sequence for the first episode. After the first episode, intermission for dessert and someone asking "¿Uno más?" Then, the next day, swearing much more than usual.
We watched on VHS and DVD, waiting impatiently for the second and third seasons and without such urgency for the last three. I managed to not find out too much about the last season, so the end was a surprise. Or perhaps the surprise was that after a second or two of initial disappointment in not knowing what happens I actually appreciated the last episode's unconventional ending. I suppose for real life situations, like on the job or in any other kind of relationship or some less excellent TV series I'd prefer an unambiguous ending, "ripping off the bandage...no anesthetic" but this conclusion was a refreshing change, as was the first episode...And, as after the gran final of most series or telenovelas, there is a letdown. I'll miss the characters and I'll miss the ritual.
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