I'm Lost yet again

I don't talk much here about television, but I feel this is related to writing.

At the end of the last season of Lost, I swore off the show and cursed the writers, producers, directors, actors, everybody who had anything to do with the product. I was pissed. Big time. I felt three years was long enough. It was time they started giving me some real clues about all the mystery behind the show. But did that happen? No, it did not. The third season ended with nothing answered, and I was frustrated because nothing much seemed to happen each episode; there'd be one little hint about something, but nothing concrete, and another twenty mysteries to add to the never-ending pile of mysteries that keeps growing and growing.

I swore I'd never watch the show again.

Then this week I came home from work late one night and my other half told me she had recorded the show and I really needed to watch it.

So, without the Internet to distract me and on the recommendation of my significant other, I watched the show.

This is where I'll start weeping.

Damn those Lost writers. Damn them. They've got me hooked again.