I have new imaginary friends!
Due South is adorable and slashy and adorably slashy and I want to take Paul Gross home and cuddle him. (Or possibly I want to take Benton Fraser home and ... I dunno, let him iron my clothes or something.) My mom's hooked too -- we watched six or seven episodes on Monday together, and I'm about two-thirds through the first season. I'm using the show as my "let's think about something other than the dog now" strategy, for which it serves admirably.