My work was finished for the day, and I laid down to relax and (if sleep should overcome me) take a nap. I checked Netflix for a movie I’d already seen—that way, if I fell asleep in the middle of it, no big deal. I would already know what I’d missed.
The choice du jour was Love Actually, a 2003 British romantic comedy written and directed by Richard Curtis. I’ve written about it before. I’m not especially proud of the choice, but I’m not too embarrassed, either. It’s an aggregation of short bits that tell the intertwined stories of ten pairs of “impossibly attractive” characters who are in love. Some critics judged it a “sugary confection,” but I wasn’t in the mood for anything challenging or serious. After all, I chose the film with the expectation that I would end up sleeping through part of it.
If I were to compare the film to comfort foods, it would fall somewhere between macaroni-and-cheese and prime rib—meatloaf, I should think. If this were a typical Facebook post about a restaurant meal, I would feel obligated to show you the entree. So here it is:
As it turns out, I did fall asleep through part of the film. And… sorry about this post, but you can’t expect a major production every day. Here life as usual is pretty mundane.
70° and Clear
PS: Last night I got a call from my friend Ronny, and Vinnie has reopened his doughnut shack after a several-month hiatus caused by electrical problems. So Ronny and I resumed our Sunday morning ritual of imbibing in the best comfort food out here. I had planned to consume two pigs-in-a-blanket and buy three cinnamon rolls to enjoy at home—one for me, and two for my neighbors Aliana and Bill. But Vinnie didn’t have any pigs, so I took Ronny to breakfast at the Motor Inn. Not the same, but just as good.