I have two DVRs in my apartment, one on the HDTV in the living room and another on the little TV in my bedroom/office. I have a totally separate set of programs which I record on each one. The big TV is for first-run series, sports, and Major Television Events. When I tape something on the living room DVR, that means I intend to give it my full attention. "American Idol" goes on the big screen, as do the NBA playoffs, "Lost," and "Supernatural." The little TV is for the home entertainment equivalent of comfort food, stuff I can put on in the background while I am working. Sitcom reruns work great because I never have to look over to the screen to follow what's going on, since it's always stuff I've seen before and in the even of some "Simpsons" episodes, stuff I have seen fifty or more times. I don't know why I work better while near-subconsciously reciting along to every line of "A Milhouse Divided," but I do. Some other stuff I put on the junk-food TiVo: "Seinfeld," "South Park," old "Scrubs," "Family Guy." I had "That 70's Show" and "Frasier" in the rotation for a long time but I have decided that those shows both peak around the fourth viewing. The "Family Guy" with the ipecac contest, I believe, will still be funny the 900th time around, which is good because the way Cartoon Network pimps those reruns, it comes on about two or three times a week.

The weird exception to the comfort-TV rule is "House." USA reruns the new "House" episodes very shortly after they debut on Fox. I always keep an eye on the USA schedule in case a "Monk" marathon is coming up, and on a flier I started taping the "House" reruns as well. Perhaps the strongest sign yet that this show is really something special is that I find myself often watching and re-watching recent episodes less than a week after I see them for the first time. On the big TV, I can concentrate on the medical mysteries and appreciate the computer effects to their fullest extent. On the little TV, it's not like it becomes an entirely different show, but different elements are highlighted. This third season, which will conclude with a delayed finale next Tuesday, has really perfected the show's bizarre character dynamic. In particular, the sort of mini-arc of episodes leading into the finale regarding Dr. Foreman's threat to quit House's diagnostic team has been just spiffy. The one that kicked it off, "House Training," was a little touchy-feely for this usually wicked drama, with Foreman's Alzheimer's-suffering mother and the show's annual patient fatality. But then came "Family," which paired ridiculous low comedy (House vs. housepet!) with an Eli Roth-quality scene of Foreman performing unanaesthetized bone marrow removal on a screaming little boy.

And David Shore and his writers were just getting started. "Resignation" might be my single favorite "House" episode to date. Foreman announces his resignation, which leads to beautifully characterized reactions from everyone else in the cast. (This is needed to justify the whole silly plot line, which let's face it doesn't really do much dramatically for you because it's patently obvious that a minority actor like Omar Epps isn't going to leave one of the highest-rated shows on television in the middle of its run.) Dr. Chase, painfully aware of his status as the runt of House's litter of diagnosticians, tries to assert an illusory degree of control over the situation by responding to everyone else's statements as if he was narrating the show. "You don't want to quit! And you don't want him to leave!" Dr. Cameron, whose ongoing efforts to break free from the over-empathizing lady doctor stereotype are undermined by her hopeless mothlike attraction to lost causes, overplays her part as the dispassionate colleague. Complicating matters is her just-finished sexual enmeshment with Chase, who ruined things between the two of them by being altogether too agreeable, available, and not either dying or carrying crippling emotional pain. Dr. Cuddy tries to play the role of the good administrator by offering asset Foreman moral and financial incentives to stick around, with the subtext of her personal concern for House's emotional well-being. Foreman is the smartest of the Housies and a bit of a humanizing mirror for House himself. As for our hero, he seems to be reacting a little oddly to Foreman's big news. He's trying to brush it off, but he seems... unusually cheerful.

That's because Dr. Wilson, whose relationships House has been meddling with ever since his latest divorce, has been secretly slipping antidepressants into House's espressos. House, always a believer in the direct approach, responds by dosing Wilson with amphetamines, leading to a scene that ought to earn Robert Sean Leonard a boatload of award nominations all on its own. I'm glad once again to not be female. I think I would be apprehensive enough about a breast examination to begin with, but I'll never think of the procedure the same way again after Wilson's "breast thing," complete with warp-speed self-commentary, a lascivious wink, and an attractive young patient who like many visitors to Princeton-Plainsboro will probably be considering alternative medicines from this day forward.

If it wasn't enough to have the hero and his best friend surreptitiously giving each other powerful psychoactive medications while working at a hospital, "Resignation" threw in what passes for a romantic subplot on "House." The good doctor comes into a consult a the free clinic with a cheating vegan and his nutritionist girlfriend, and comes out with the sandal-wearing twentysomething's phone number. What is it with women and obnoxious damaged guys anyway?

The last episode before "House" took an "American Idol"-enforced week off before the finale, "The Jerk," didn't quite reach the same heights as "Resignation" but it certainly delivered the one-liners with the main plot's patient a teenager nearly as caustic as House. More nonsense about Foreman's resignation slowed things down (who cares who sabotaged your interview at some other hospital, Omar, we know you're not going anywhere), but there is enough built up backstory between all of the regulars now that "House" snaps even when the medical mystery isn't as captivating as the supermodel who turned out to be a dude or the plane full of hysterical imaginary epidemic victims. The vaguely fourth-wall smashing notion of Chase reminding Cameron every Tuesday that he likes her is very funny, particularly given the real-world knowledge that Jesse Spencer and Jennifer Morrison are a couple. Spencer deserves all the credit in the world for breathing dimension into Chase even while all of the writers, and arguably all the other characters, don't really pay him any mind at all. And House's peculiar reaction to his latent attraction to Cuddy -- he's trying to sic Wilson on her, while consulting with Wilson's latest ex-wife on his friend's seduction techniques.

My father, as it so happens, is an attorney who primarily defends doctors; every time I watch or discuss "House" with him he grumbles about all of these people would get fired within hours if they were real. They're not real though. "House" might be the greatest medical show there ever was because while the diseases and infections and syndromes all follow real-world rules none of the doctors sure do. It's kind of like the "Seinfeld" of medical shows, now that I think of it -- no hugs to be found here. I'm looking forward tremendously to watching the finale, once on the big TV and then several more times on the little one.