The other day, I watched the second to last episode of True Blood in my living room, and I cried. I pressed pause, I made lunch, and then I cried again.
I know. It's totally embarrassing. Shameful. And I can blame my funky hormones or total exhaustion, but the truth is, I've gotten pretty attached to the residents of Bon Temps. And now that we're only one episode away from "true love" or "true death," I'm felling some real separation anxiety.