The only responsible thing to do is panic.
Ok, maybe not. Still, the first thoughts that go through my head when Netflix blips out on me are generally as follows:
Darn, I’d better do that housework instead. No point ordering pizza. Anything on normal TV?
I experience a sense of slight disappointment, then conclude that the universe is telling me to play a game on my playstation instead.
In large part, this is because normal TV is overwhelmingly disappointing. The only thing left for me to watch on the BBC is Dr Who, which is only once a week.* All too many channels are overtaken by reality TV, Then there are soaps. You can only watch repeats on Dave so many times.
Sometimes, I’ll check out what I could be missing on paid channels, and I then feel smug with my freeview when I realise I’m not actually missing out on anything that Sky or Virgin could provide. I then promptly feel sad, remembering when I was younger how TV was actually far more entertaining. Tuesday nights would find me and my sister huddled up with my Dad on the settee, watching Red Dwarf, followed by Blackadder. I miss TV nights like that. I think they’re gone forever. Maybe because of services such as Netflix.
It’s moments like this that make me realise that I’m probably not as much of an adult as I pretend to be. And that’s ok, because gaming is awesome anyway.
* It is getting more disappointing every time I see it. Which will probably be a blog post all on its own.