An Open Letter To House

by Amy Lindorff

Dear House,

Eight seasons is a long time, so it’s probably good that you’re calling it quits. I called it quits with you after season five but it was an amicable break up. By then, I had so many shows piling up in my Hulu queue that it was just too much to handle and you didn’t make the cut.

I have a lot of fond memories attached to you. Second only to 24, you were my father’s favorite television show. Not only did he have all the DVD sets, but he DVRed each episode, even the repeats and, as a family, we would watch them over and over again. Now, three years after his death, those DVDs still sit lined up in order on a bookshelf in my mother’s house. I doubt we’ll complete the set by adding the last few seasons he didn’t get to – you were never quite as popular in our house after he was gone, replaced in the DVR by Lifetime movies and syndicated Boy Meets World (as older sister it became my job to let the younger one in on everything she missed while being a baby in the 90s). But that’s how it should be. You were Dad’s show, not ours.

One of the things that drove him most crazy was when television shows overstayed their welcomes, so I think he’d be glad that you were arranging a (hopefully) graceful exit. Finish up your stories, and let the characters go. They’ll all be okay. Well, I hope so anyway. Jennifer Morisson’s entrapment in Once Upon a Time’s Storybrooke might be a bad example, but I’m sure at least Hugh Laurie will find his way. He was in Blackadder after all.

Love, Amy

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