Tell me, who are you? (who are you? who, who, who, who? )
Cause I really wanna know (who are you? who, who, who, who? )

SpikeTV begins playing CSI reruns early in the evening...we're pretty much chomping at the bit for Oprah to quit rambling because it's our cue to toggle over to channel 30 and watch Gil Grissom solve another case, undoubtedly, a case we've already seen solved, and have rare the opportunity to feel truly intelligent as we direct the characters on the screen where to look next, who we "think" the bad guy really is. It's not really that bad, it's not like we've stopped eating or caring for the household to watch television (Although I think my grumbling stomach kept Nick from falling asleep the other night...and I'm wondering which one of us will finally break and unload the dishwasher—undoubtedly, he'll play the "I did it last time!" card...), but it's a comfort to know that it's always there. The weeknight marathons on Spike, the new episodes Thursday, and the occasional extra episode CBS airs in HD when sports play has left a hole in their TV lineup.

It's great to fall asleep to, an old friend, security. It's just like curling up with my favorite blankie in a soft lit room with tiny chimes, watching that stripper-come-scientist get cheeky with the guy in the lab. UNCANNY. So, you can imagine my upset last night when, Nick and I ready for slumber, could not find a single CSI to watch. Hell, even if Spike isn't playing them, A&E will be playing the sister show in Miami...but last night, they were all dried up. Nothing. I took a turn switching around, Nick tried his hand at the remote...and the verdict was the same. We made small talk for a bit, but that just didn't seem right at all, and eventually found some other crime show to set the timer to, a show that engaged neither of us, but left a clearer understanding of the void that had now taken hold of our lives.