Last Thursday I was standing in the kitchen, boiling up some water for a cup of mixed berry tea. Glancing at the red wall clock across the living room, 8:28 struck me as an important hour.

I screamed with glee, ââ?¬Å?Greyââ?¬â?¢s Anatomy is on!ââ?¬Â
ââ?¬Å?Oh it is, aye!ââ?¬Â laughed Alice.
On the couch, Libbie snickered at my outburst of animated enthusiasm.
ââ?¬Å?Quick, flip the channel,ââ?¬Â which wasnââ?¬â?¢t a hard task; if it wasnââ?¬â?¢t on one channel, it was on the other. Yep, we had two channels. The credits of Super Nanny had just begun to roll. ââ?¬Å?YES! We havenââ?¬â?¢t missed a minute.ââ?¬Â

This past spring semester at MSU, I had borrowed Grey�s Anatomy season�s one and two on DVD from my friend Sherry and downloaded most of the episodes from season three off the internet. I was watching an episode nearly every other day, which was a significant struggle considering my wildly packed weekly schedule. I couldn�t quite finish season three before I left for New Zealand; I would�ve been completely up to speed and ready for season four this fall, save four or five more episodes.

I sat my tea on the coffee table and sat myself on the floor, cross-legged, in front of the box. The preview came on, and the twinkling, chiming theme song graced the sound waves, ââ?¬Å?Greyââ?¬â?¢s Anatomy. . . on TV en zed.ââ?¬Â I never understood why they showed a preview right before the show began, it seemed rather redundant. But never mind that ââ?¬â?? my favorite show was on.

Three weekends ago, while in Queenstown, I watched my first Greyââ?¬â?¢s in New Zealand. Staying at Theresaââ?¬â?¢s boyfriendââ?¬â?¢s parentsââ?¬â?¢ house, I was the ââ?¬Å?friend of the girlfriend of the guyââ?¬Â of the parents of the house, and feeling rather disconnected and lost. Not directionally, mind you, I knew I was in Queenstown, on the South Island, in New Zealand in the southern hemisphere. Aware of my place only made me feel more alone. I felt trapped too, a guest in someoneââ?¬â?¢s house who I didnââ?¬â?¢t know, whose customs I wasnââ?¬â?¢t acquainted with. Trapped literally as well, for a blizzard had just swept into the mountainous tourist town, rendering my car useless as any means for escape. No phone or reliable internet, and isolation was complete. I was keenly on the lookout for anything that would remind me of home. That evening in the family room, an ad with the familiar twinkling jingle caught my ear, and on the TV happened to be the very episode that I had left off watching back home. . . How absolutely lucky!

Since then, each Thursday I excitedly looked forward to 8:30. My tea warming my hands, I knew it superbly silly, but I felt like I had just met up with some familiar friends who had been waiting to tell me about their week. Yes, yes, of course everything they quipped, gossiped and laughed about with each other was only the product of a clever group of writers in L.A., sitting around a table, fabricating some good drama. But, it really was great writing, and it made me feel at home.