Shame, I spent all my weekend watching "Breaking Bad"

I am alone for the weekend, my wife left I do not know where, to see an alleged friend whose I do not know the name , the address, the marital status. I let go even if I found it very perky at the time of the goodbyes. "I'm coming back Monday morning, I'll try to call you," she told me before spinning like a thief. So, I hang out in the apartment like a goy in a synagogue.

The weather is gray, the cat is rolling, I'm sleeping. I do not want anything, neither to read, nor to sleep, nor to go out even to die. My life is sad, I think. I should have accompanied her. She offered it to me, I think. I had to say no, go ahead, you need it, I have to do. What joke.

I turn on the computer. I go from site to site as a jaded tourist lost in a museum of which he knows every nook and cranny. At one point, without even noticing it, I open Netflix. As usual, I can not find anything to see. I do not know what took me the day I gave in to my wife's repeated requests to subscribe. I am weak, that's all. I should have held on. it would not kill her.

And I would have had the satisfaction of having escaped the curse of a site whose first principle is to waste time looking for something that does not exist. Even today, nothing finds grace in my eyes. I'm about to switch to an X site when I come across the sticker of Breaking Bad. Never seen. That's good, it seems. Who told me that? I forgot. My mother-in-law maybe. She, she sees everything. If she read so much, she would have something else to tell than her adventures at the hairdresser to whom she lends intentions - good luck to him.

Even so, it's only 03:30 PM. I could go bother the cat but likely as he is, he would be able to shoot under the bed for the whole weekend. I could go hang on the beach but it may be crowded. I could fill the fridge but it's Saturday, the supermarkets are going to be stormed with their promotions that make people hysterical. Anyway, I'm not hungry. I will not eat at the weekend or a piece of cheese that must be dying of boredom in the fridge. I should read; I do not want to read. I read enough like that. This morning, while taking my shower, I noticed that the bathtub was all filthy. I could scour it but it's Shabbat, I do not have the right. Well, I'll see the beginning of the first episode and then as I find it pathetically nil, I will turn off and go for a walk.

Binge-watching

The evening fell without my noticing it. How is it possible? By the way, what day are we? I feel like I've been away from the world. I do not know how many episodes I watched in a row. I had to be sucked into a Spatio-temporal gap, I do not see any other explanation. I have an empty mind, so empty, I have to suffer from hypoglycemia. I'm preparing a sandwich. The cat comes out of his nap and meows me as if he had just completed a hunger strike. I give him his croquettes. He devours them without even saying thank you. I bite in my sandwich. She could have called me, I think. Or leave me a message. To say that she thought of me. Ask me if I was not bored too much. You speak. Egoism is his kingdom. The spitting portrait of his mother.

I'm coming back to the show. I find my chemistry teacher and his crazy adventures. What is this teenager's series ? Me, the day I learn that I have cancer, I stay in bed and wait for the end. I call the rabbi and I tell him about the end of the worlds. I summon my mother-in-law and tell her her four truths. The cat joins me. Eat his kibble exhausted him. He wallows on my stomach as if he had just run a marathon. The next minute, he sleeps deeply.

It is midnight when I go to bed. She did not call. Tomorrow, I promise, I'll go running.

I did not go running.

In the morning, I finished season one. Afternoon, the two.

I am ashamed. I feel like I have been on morphine all weekend long. As bewitched. In the coma. How can we fall so low? An alcoholic who would have spent those days gulping three bottles of bourbon would deserve more consideration than my sad person. I have been below everything. I, this great intellectual, this first-rate writer, the most talented chronicler of his generation, a spirit so pure that my forehead splashes with genius whoever sits before him, the cream of the cream-even my mother-in-law admit it, I behaved like the last of the rascals. I have a bad taste in the mouth.

I have the impression of having rolled in the debauchery, the stupor, the most absolute lust. For forty-eight hours, I gave up being a man to become a vermin of spectator never enough satiated. I will have possessed, it is not possible otherwise. Soon I disgusted myself as if I had slept with a girl of bad life.

When my wife finally returns, she looks at me as if she does not recognize me. However, apart from shaving my head completely, I do not see how I changed …