I realize that perhaps the greatest secret pleasure of married life is doing nothing together. As you can see, I've been manically blogging for months now and dealing with the Palin terror as best I can. She haunts my dreams, sends my stomach sinking at odd moments, terrifies me in the morning, cracks me up in the afternoon, but, if it weren't for Ambien, wonderful Ambien, would keep me awake at night.

So we all need some mental health breaks.

Beagle-walking is great; old episodes of Futurama are visual Xanax; a weekend of Cartmania on Comedy Central doesn't hurt either; and a long bike ride to some classic PSB remixes was a great Saturday afternoon. But a couple of tips for you Netflix married farts. If you haven't seen "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay," do yourself a favor. I think a whole swathe of the next generation is essentially Harold and Kumar writ large, and that cannot but reassure. Rob Corddry as Dick Cheney's id is unforgettable. But John Cho is a god and Neil Patrick Harris delivers the funniest post-gay post-everything performance I've watched since the new Doctor Who.

But if you are not that into stoner humor, I also recommend something Joe Klein tipped me off to: an astonishingly good political thriller BBC series, "State Of Play." If you love politics and journalism and pure drama, it's the most intelligent and gripping modern series I've seen since "The Wire". Bill Nighy's performance as a classic Fleet Street editor is British television acting at its finest. You get lost in its under-stated acting and elegant script and riveting plot. Six hours of escape. And we need it right now.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.