Saw the sixth Harry Potter movie tonight. Wonderfully dark, and it played on my barely subcutaneous crush on Helena Bonham Carter. Snape once again inspired me to look for something something black and high-necked and to decorate in hardcover books. Not that I play for Team Slytherin, oh no: I'm top Gryffindor boy, through and through.
My pure enjoyment of the film was tainted on the edges by some princessy emo fuck in the row behind us. He draped his legs over the seats in front of him, which were the only seats of sufficient number to fit our group. As my wife walked up to claim her chair, he rolled his eyes and murmured an agonized "shi-i-i-i-i-it" at being so inconvenienced. I desired to inconvenience him of a few incisors but my wife views these responses askance.
Dear Reader, you don't know how strange it is for me to say "my wife" this and "my wife" that. It's like I've been asked to euphemize or encode a perfectly common word and am trying to force myself in the habit of it. Intellectually, I know I'm within my rights and there's a certain societal expectation I'm fulfilling with it, but do not imagine it exactly trips off my tongue. Oh, I'm not resisting or resenting it at all, but do know that I never, ever conceived that I could end up here.
Anyway, we're back in Green Bay. Rebecca's father is recovering nicely: we saw from photos over the week that he's relearning to walk without support. During our visit this afternoon we had a long conversation with him and he hardly had any trouble at all. What this man is up against would be daunting for anyone, but imagine developing a pattern of behavior that was natural to you for eight decades, and then suddenly you're robbed of it. Can't do it all, have to undertake special training to pick it up again. Imagine learning to hold and wield a fork effectively, or practicing the alphabet all over again. There you go, imagine you went on vacation for a month and when you returned, you find the government had mandated the alphabet should fall in a different order. Everyone else knows it, has memorized it, and you're the only one stumbling through it. I guess it's not dissimilar to that.
Rebecca realized recently that we haven't had a weekend to ourselves in several weeks. Well, what can you do? Two weeks on the cruise, two weeks visiting her father in the hospital, I don't remember what was going on before all this. But you get old, you inherit certain responsibilities. Your parents start to get very old and fall apart and you have to take care of them; there's a brief breather before you and your parter, in turn, become decrepit. It makes me want to say, "Play, kids, as hard as you can."