Monday, January 1, 2018

Enraged sputtering stage

No spoilers ahead...

Before I watched the latest Star Wars movie yesterday, all I’d heard about it is that people either loved it or hated it. I expected to fall in the middle. I was wrong. I hated it, am disgusted that the franchise was put into the hands of people who have no understanding or appreciation for what was the heart and soul of the original, and am angry that whoever wrote the script is allowed to use a keyboard.

I’d spew about it longer but am still in the enraged sputtering stage.

Had a quiet NYE. Sophie opted to stay home and out of the cold so rather than playing cards, Mica and I binged on Blue Bloods and Longmire, alternating between the two. The Little White Dog slept between us, waking every hour to wave a paw, the universal canine sign for Belly Rub Needed.

Great houseguest that I am, I stayed in bed until mid morning. I lingered because Little White Dog had opted to sleep with me and was cuddling. He isn’t a cuddler so when it happens, you go with it.

[As I typed “cuddler,” autocorrect suggested “cuddle tsunami.” WTH and where do I get it?]

Mica and I went out for Pecan pancakes, thus concluding our New Year’s tradition.

Eve called midafternoon to ask if I wanted to come by and help eat leftover NYE snacks. Tempting as snacks are, I passed. I had a bad case of nap hair, plus I didn’t feel like layering up to go outside. “Someone was disappointed you couldn’t come last night,” she said. As far as I know there were only three people I would have known, and two were Eve and Paul.

“What makes you think that?”

“He asked if you were coming, I said you had other plans and he said, ‘That’s dissapointing.’”

Guess that’s clear.


Post a Comment

Search This Blog

Powered by Blogger.