And now Downton Abbey has become our yardstick for, well, everything

So, two things which are backgroundy but necessary for the actual story, which in itself is rather brief.

One, Nick and I have both gotten completely and utterly sucked in to Downton Abbey.

Nick's taste runs to the Office, Archer, 30 Rock, the Simpsons, and Family Guy. I watch so little TV that he's in charge of the Netflix. And I had been badgering him to put Downton in our Netflix queues for ages.

And instead he kept ordering films about cowboys and dwarves. Not together. I was annoyed. I mean about the not-Downton. Not about the cowboys and dwarves not being in the same movies.

Anyway. So he was humoring me in ordering this Masterpiece Theatre period drama. We finally started on Downton and he was hooked from the first episode.

We started one season late, and caught up on Netflix, and it is just delicious. I love it and I want it to go on and on. I don't care if it's a soap opera all dressed up in gorgeous early 1900s outfits. Nick is equally riveted.

Our TV room is becoming a kid's room, and so we got rid of our behemoth television. So last week Nick, Betty, and I all piled onto her bed to watch.

And this past Sunday I was in NY for work, and because I was out for a work dinner, I missed the first 20 minutes. I haven't yet had time to catch up, and it's kind of like knowing you have dessert waiting.

And in fact, speaking of NY, I stayed at the Waldorf-Astoria. I'd never been there before I called Nick, "It's so grand!"

"Like Downton?"

In fact, yes!

So that's Downton.

The second thing is that our English basement tenants, who we adore, are leaving us. Well, one has already moved out, and the other leaves the end of this month.

Personally, it makes me very sad, because we like them both, and we like each of their dogs as well. And mortgage-wise, it's not an ideal time to rent, and we need it rented. They kindly gave us ample notice, and we have been actively looking for tenants for March 1.

So Sunday, when I was gone, a lovely couple came and looked at the place. They need to move mid-March. Nick liked them a lot, as did Betty.

They love the location, the fact that our apartment is big, quite new with new appliances, a washer-dryer in the unit, and lots of security bars. When we moved in, one of the first things we did was convert the scary murder basement of death into a separate, safe, and nicely done apartment.

It is nice. But it's an English basement. There are lots of windows, but they are ground level. This is just a fact.

So Nick has been corresponding with the potential tenants. They have some time, and they are looking around. They liked our place, but have reservations - mainly the lack of natural light. Which I totally understand.

So Nick forwarded to me the most recent email, in which the guy asked Nick to let him know if we had another tenant we were considering.

Nick called and said, "I understand them looking around. But they might just not find a place they like better. They could still choose us. Because in 44 days they're going to have to move."

"Yeah, but we don't want someone who doesn't really want us. That would be like wanting to marry Mary, but having to settle for Edith."

"We're not Edith."

"Well, we're not Mary."

"Maybe we're Sibyll."

"Oh, we're not Sibyll! Sibyll is exquisitely beautiful! With tons of natural light!"

"Fine. But we're NOT Edith." He sounded insulted. "Her problems go far beyond lack of light. We're definitely way better than Edith."

Hooked, I tell you.