Dear Bosh readers.
Today marks a melancholy day in my life.
Due to lack of time and economic hardship, my parents have forced me to cancel my Netflix account.
And I did it.
So goodbye dear Netflix! I shall forever miss your cleverly-designed red envelopes that were so fun to rip open. I shall forever miss adding hundreds of movies to my queue, knowing full well I would never get to them with my scanty 3-at-a-time plan. I shall forever miss peeling off the backing of the seal and then hesitating to seal the envelope lest I should want to watch the movie again. Most of all, I shall miss attempting everyday to watch movies instantly on my MacBook, only to be disappointed each time.
If only you didn’t cost me 17 fucking dollars a month my love. If only.
And if only I hadn’t kept the same DVD’s for four months in a row. If only.
How will I ever know what movies to see in the theater without your persuasive ads on the insides of my envelopes? How can I survive without my obscure French films?
And oh gym membership how I miss thee too! Yoga classes, never more. Spin classses, never more. Now I shall never overcome my self-conscious belief that everyone was watching me on the eliptical.
Where can one run if one has not a treadmill upon which to tread?
Oh cruel economic recession, how I hate thee!
Off to write sappy poetry,