I’m not going to make it a habit to blog about celebrities. I should say that part up front.

These two are getting married.

When I heard it I was really excited. Like, suspiciously excited. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I felt so outrageously in favor of these two getting together, tying their proverbial boats (well, yachts) together, having a wedding with pictures to probably be published in a People magazine and sold in a check-out stand for me to read while Harry pays for groceries, and eventually producing little trust-fund mini-thems.

Then I put my finger on the very thing.

Think back to October 2006- February 2007. Bush was still President, the last Harry Potter book hadn’t been written, and video iPods were about $150 more than they cost now. I was going through my very first real break up, and having an interesting time of it. At the tender age of 19 I felt a little blue about the whole thing. Even though I didn't regret breaking up, the sense of loss was very tangible to me.

(Cue hazy and twinkly montage of my 19 year old self with some unspecified Keane song playing in the background, sitting in my Provo apartment at my desk on Merzy’s Macbook at some unknown but late hour…)

There were two things I watched when I felt a little down. They were


and

(Specifically Season 2. The show has never been able to top it.)

Watching these shows made those quiet and melancholy nights a bit cheerful. I’ll admit I even cut bangs like Anne Hathaway’s after a few viewings (this turned out to be one of my favorite hair eras).

It seems only right and appropriate that an actor from each of my comfort shows should be matrimonially united. The universe has acheived balance. For now.