Confession: I am a TV junkie.

Last fall, I started going into an office once a week. I'm self-employed, and usually I work at home, comfortably nestled into an alcove of my kitchen, with the freedom to move to the sofa, my bed, my backyard, or a cafe any time I want. Inconveniently, a few weeks into my new routine of semi-regularly sitting at a desk all day—in a small room with an open door that once would've felt like a far cry from a cubicle but now seems a lot like the walls of a box around me—a few weeks in, I made the mistake of renting the first season of The Office (American version) on DVD.

I couldn't help but watch each disk in its entirety every time I sat down to view an episode; the show is just that good. It doesn't hurt that the lead actor is adorable and endearing, nor that I have gone to school at some point in my life with four of the actors, making it intriguing to study how they've aged. But it did hurt my ability to get the job done in my own office experience. That first day I went in after watching the show, I dangled my feet from my desk chair, kicked myself side to side in the seat, and looked helplessly down the hall in search of, you guessed it, Jim Halpert. Even Dwight would do.

The Office is not the only show that's taken over my brain a bit more than the educated part of me thinks is healthy. It's hard to avoid letting Grey's Anatomy get you assessing men in a new way: McDreamy? McSteamy? McMeltMeToMyFeetsies? Then I watch some 30 Rock, and suddenly no one I know seems funny anymore, because who on Earth can rival the humor of Alec Baldwin? (Who the heck knew he was a comedian?) Now I see no need for anyone else to even try his hand at making me laugh; no one can do it like he can.

Except, well, except Chuck Bartowski, the main character on one of my latest addictions: the eponymously named CIA spoof show that features a rather hotter, funnier version of the first man of The Office. With its ludicrous action scenes and forbidden but budding love between the operative and the informant, it's like a chilled-out, goofy, witty version of my long-time love, 24. And thankfully not as soap-opera-y as last year's new favorite, Lost, which I also watched on DVDs from start to finish (two seasons) in about two weeks so I could then watch season three as it aired on tv.

Now you might think I've reached the end of the list. But the truth is, I also love Men in Trees, enjoy Big Shots, Private Practice, and Ugly Betty, find weak and pathetic but still follow October Road, and do in fact think no show in a decade or more has been better directed, written, or acted than Friday Night Lights (which I'm so fond of right now that you may someday see a separate post just about it). And while I feel a little bit ashamed of how many hours a week I seem to be spending in front of the tv (or the computer, where I watch most of these shows without many commercials, cutting their run time significantly), I know it's just my way of unwinding after packed days of working intensely, volunteering out the wazoo, socializing an awful lot, etc. I lead a crazily full life, and sometimes the brain just needs to shut down from it all in an enjoyable way. And I have to say, I appreciate the fact that there are finally decent enough shows on tv again to be good for that. (Just wish there were a few fewer...) After too many years of the reality show take-over of Americans' brains, I am delighted to find that there are still people out there who can write a good episode, and another one, and another one. (I hate to admit it, but I think the 24 writers could take notes.) Now I just wish the powers that be would do the right thing and get those writers back to work! I might run out of episodes soon, and then what would I do?!