Short weeks are the best weeks

So I have made a decision that I'll go back to writing as usual. That's not to say that I'm not hurting anymore or that things here at work are 100% ok... but I know they will be. And so I'm going to fake it until I make it.

Anyway... yesterday, due to the unfortunately chilly weather, the husband and I decided to see a movie. Since nothing has come out recently that peaked our interest, we decided to go to a dollar movie in Sugarhouse. To our surprise, we discovered that it was 50 cent night at the theater. That should have tipped us off right there.

Picking the most suitable chairs we could find, we sat down, ready to enjoy this amazingly inexpensive film. Unfortunately, the rest of our experience would be utterly irritating.

First, there was phlem guy. Who, sitting directly behind me, thought it would be prudent to hack and cough up phlem throughout the duration of the movie. Then, there was the couple who brought their brand new baby to the movie and refused to take it (sorry, don't know the gender) out when it started crying. And it cried a lot. Which is understandable, seeing as how we were at Hellboy 2. Then there was the guy who literally stole another person's seat when the person got up to go to the bathroom. And who told the aforementioned person that he could sit in the seat stealer's seat. Seriously. Not to mention the countless families who thought that taking their five kids all under the age of five to Hellboy would be an uplifting family activity. I'm sorry, but I think there are reasons why movies are assigned certain ratings, and though I firmly believe in a parent's right to discretion, I think that most are just lazy and don't want to get a babysitter. I think that adults often forget how impressionable children are and how their minds are unable to process the information that we are able to process. It makes me sad.

Needless to say, though movie was cheap, we were glad we came on a 50 cent Monday.

Otherwise we would have felt like we overpaid.

An open letter to the vermin in my garage

Dear rats and mice living in my garage,

Hey! How are you all doing? I feel like we don't get to talk much anymore, partly because you are always scurrying around behind shelves and boxes and partly because my wife doesn't really like you that much, but I just wanted to drop you a line and say hello and give you the heads up about the poison and traps I am going to be putting out today. I really like you guys and I want you to know that it's not you, it's my wife, she just thinks that you are dirty and disease ridden and wants you out and I have to comply so I hope you all leave on your own so you don't end up like your friend. I'm really sorry that he had to go like that



he seemed like a really nice guy and was probably pretty old, seeing how he was sixteen inches long and pretty heavy too but I guess thats what eating an entire box of poison will do to you. I picked him up by the tail to put him in a plastic bag and then in the garbage, and I couldn't help but notice the soft, furry, worm-like texture (I actually got a little gaggy just typing that). I promise I'll call, or at least send you our Christmas card. Take care!

Greg

--fin--

A postscript for the reader:
Currently Lauren and I are living in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Claude Snow, who are serving a one year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Washington State. Their garage is bursting with boxes, old TVs, food storage and obviously, rats. The state of uncleanliness and disarray in the garage does not represent the views of the author or his wife.