By Camryn Ragland ’18

Dear Netflix,

Our love hate relationship began in eighth grade when I decided to binge watch “Hannah Montana” instead of reading “To Kill a Mockingbird.” Ever since then, I have been hooked. Your endless varieties of movies and TV shows never cease to please me any day of the week. When I click on the big red “N” bookmarked on my computer, my smile spreads from ear to ear, as I know I will escape Westport and transport to Tree Hill, Seattle Grace Hospital, or the Upper East Side of New York City.

But as I sink into the worlds of made up tv characters with much better and more interesting lives than myself, I feel guilty; I should not be this happy at 4 p.m. on a Tuesday. In the back of my mind, the long list of assignments on Schoology is flashing like a neon light; my trip to Luke’s Coffee Shop is suddenly not as satisfying. This is the hate part of the love hate relationship. Because once you travel into TV land, it’s hard to unclick the ten  second countdown until the next episode begins. And now, I have to wait another 42 minutes until I start my math packet. I mean, what’s more important: McDreamy and McSteamy, or trigonometry? I think the answer is pretty clear.

So Netflix, as much as I would like to hate you for being the sole cause of my plummeting third quarter grades, I would only be lying if I said that my lab due tomorrow is more important that finding out who “Gossip Girl” is.

With sincere apologies,

Camryn