My desperately needed daily dose of depravity

When dinner is done and the dishes are “soaking” in the sink (in other words, I don’t feel like dealing with them yet), I assume my normal position on our living room love seat — my head propped against one armrest, and my feet draped over the other. I grab the TV clicker and a pair of reading glasses, ready for relaxation.

Most nights, our dog Gilligan plunks down onto the floor beside me where a belly scratch is in reach, and the cat comes out of hiding to nestle herself between me and the sofa cushion. It’s a regular snuggle fest.

This nightly routine may be repetitive, monotonous and pathetic, but it’s my favorite part of the day, when I get to put my feet up, watch a mind-numbing television show, play Spider Solitaire on my phone and completely veg out.

I’ve had snooty friends who have claimed they only watch historical shows, read books or listen to classical music in the evenings, implying that people who watch regular TV are imbeciles hell-bent on rotting their brains. Admittedly, most television shows I watch aren’t exactly culturally enriching, but if that’s the worst thing I do all day, then I’m doing just fine in life.

Although I’m fairly confident that watching TV every night is a harmless vice, worry sometimes creeps in.

I was having coffee recently with my Boot Camp friends, a weekly ritual after our Friday class, and the movie “Steel Magnolias” came up in the conversation. “I’ve never seen that movie,” I muttered from my corner of the table.

“WHAT??” the ladies cried incredulously, “You’ve never seen it? Are you kidding?”

“I guess I’m not much of a chick-flick person,” I said sheepishly.

“But ‘Steel Magnolias’ is a great movie, a classic,” they implored.

“She only likes murder,” Denise blurted out, and I remembered telling her my dirty secret last month.

“It’s true,” I admitted. “I’ve never seen ‘The Notebook’ or ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ or ‘The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,’ but I’ve seen almost every mob movie multiple times and I love true crime documentaries.” The ladies looked on with fascination and amusement, as if I’d just revealed that I had a mutated third eye hiding on the side of my head.

We all had a good laugh about it, but the conversation gave me pause.

I admit, when I surf through my options each night, I don’t stop on Lifetime movies, cooking shows or chick flicks. I bypass rom-coms, heartwarming dramas and “Just Say Yes to the Dress.” To me, those shows are corny, vapid and downright boring. I seek stories that satisfy my sick fascination for human behavior hiding in the fringes of society. I want fraud, espionage, violence, thievery, deceit, manipulation and murder.

This week, my Prime account, knowing my appetite for true crime, fed me a particularly dark list of documentaries based on my viewing history, and I’ve been gobbling them up. In one week, I’ve managed to binge-watch three series about serial killers guilty of grisly and sadistic crimes — Hadden Clark, Leonard Lake and Lawrence Bittaker.

As if that weren’t morose enough, the audiobook I’m currently listening to in my car is “When a Killer Calls: A Haunting Story of Murder, Criminal Profiling, and Justice in a Small Town” by FBI criminal profiler John Douglas.

Not exactly a pick-me-up.

So, is my daily dose of true crime damaging my psyche?

Who knows. But I maintain that watching stories about terrible people doesn’t make me terrible ... if anything, it makes me grateful for the astonishingly uneventful life I lead. Like my friends, I’m interested in what makes people tick. I’m just less interested in what makes people fall in love, unless one of them is eventually found floating in a lake.

Perhaps that’s why “Dirty Dancing” and “Fried Green Tomatoes” have never made it onto my television. Give me a murder, a motive and a suspect with questionable alibis, and I’m perfectly content. In fact, consuming multiple documentaries about serial killers may be healthier for me than watching “The Notebook.” I may have a morbid fascination with death, but at least I’ll never die of boredom.

Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com.