I binged an entire show this weekend.

The whole thing.

Four seasons.

Hours and hours and hours of watching.

When I was young, I watched Full House every Friday night. I looked forward to it so much. I had to wait a whole week for the next episode.

When the series finale happened, I was so excited! I got home from school, ate, played, and then got in my bed – TV on and turned to the right channel.

And right before it came on, I fell asleep. Missed the whole thing. Cried.

I didn’t get to watch that episode for months.

And you know what I got from the experience?

Patience, dealing with the feeling of disappointment.

A memory, for heaven’s sake.

I won’t have a memory of staying in bed this whole weekend binge watching Netflix.

But when TV didn’t dominate my life? When I looked forward to next week? When missing a show meant more waiting?

Maaaannnn, the memories are so good.

Maybe we don’t need to be so satisfied all the time.

Maybe a little waiting would do us all some good.

Maybe an old black and white TV and old-school commercials is all we need to feel whole again.