Anna and I are about halfway through The Watcher on Netflix. I know I’m a little late to this, but I’m a creature of habit and I really only have two things I watch on TV – football and Gordon Ramsey.

But every now and then I’ll creep out of my comfort zone and ingest something new. Lately, I’ve been pretty disappointed. We recently finished The Patient from FX, well, finished is the wrong word. The show ended, but there was no sense of resolution. That seems to be a theme with most stories today. That’s probably why I like Gordon Ramsey. There’s always resolution. You forgot the lamb sauce? You’re not going to be his next head chef. Forgot a garnish in Master Chef? You’re done. See, resolute.

But I doubt I’m going to get that from The Watcher, either.

Maybe the problem is I just don’t relate.

First of all, if someone were to put creepy letters in my mailbox, it would take me weeks to see them.

Here’s what happens.

Anna checks the mail and lays all of my stuff on the kitchen island. I then let it sit there to air out for a couple of days. Then Anna reminds me that I haven’t done anything with my mail and that it’s really messing up her aesthetic. After a couple of more days the mail starts following me around the house. I go to sit on the couch, there’s the mail. I move it out of my way. Then I go to my office and again, the mail has beat me there. The office is where mail usually goes to die. You may be asking does this guy ever pay his bills? Of course I do. It’s just the only bills I get in the mail are medical bills and it usually takes them three bills to figure out what I actually owe.

I could see how having a watcher might be beneficial. I mean I lose things all the time and it’d be nice to go out to the mailbox three days later and read “Jonathan I saw you place that Amazon package in the second drawer next your desk so your wife wouldn’t find it.”

I’d be like awesome! That’s where I put it. Then I would immediately tell Anna not to worry about looking for it because I found it. She’d probably just look up from whatever she was doing, which I can assure was not helping me look for my missing package and say good.

I mean I can see how knowing some stranger was out there watching your every move would be disconcerting, but I’d like to think it would not produce the hysteria that ensues in the TV show for the main male character.

I say that, but every time someone turns around in my driveway I start looking for my shotgun and react like a impudent chihuahua whenever they hear a doorbell.

When I was a kid, my friends and I would tell one another to “get off our property” instead of saying things like go home or get our of my house or something like that. I don’t know why we got stuck on the word property, but it seems I’ve never outgrown that instinct to blindly protect it.

I guess that’s the appeal of the watcher – the intrusion upon the parts of our lives that we consider sacred and private. But with all the stuff we post for everyone to see these days, I’m surprised that storytellers can still prey off those feelings and stir a reaction from so many people.

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