I worked brunch yesterday and when I finally returned home, my feet were killing me. I remarked to Toby how my feet never used to bother me when I waited tables before. Granted, I was 17 at the time, so maybe I’m just getting older and therefore less agile and sturdy. Either way, Toby Joe and I decided to stay in and make a good ol’ fashioned springtime meal consisting of potato salad, fake weenies, and some green beans.
After Fargo ended, while Toby Joe was still slaving away in the kitchen and intermediately surfing the Internet, I decided to flip through our On Demand options. Somehow, I ended up watching Something’s Gotta Give featuring Diane Keaton and, the one and only, Francis McDormand.
This wasn’t consciously decided. I mean, I consciously decided to watch the movie, but I didn’t say, “Hey it seems like a Francis McDormand kind of day.” I didn’t even know she was in the movie. And I never really thought about watching Something’s Gotta Give. That pretty much means we’ve seen everything worth seeing on On Demand. (We’re all caught up, Time Warner, next, please.)
Somewhere in the middle of Something’s Gotta Give, someone gave me dinner and then someone ate. When the movie ended and we were finished eating, I began to flip through On Demand again thinking our selections changed in the past two hours. That’s when Toby Joe started to complain about how we pay for Netflix, yet we never really use it. This conversation began at 10 p.m. and so I put in Out-Foxed. Before the movie even began, we both decided Out-Foxed might be too heavy and we needed something more fictional. We took out Out-Foxed and put in Woody Allen’s, Manhattan (which I had seen about 15 years ago before my feet started to hurt) featuring none other than Diane Keaton.
Yesterday’s movie watching was unplanned and yet it came together rather nicely. It was sort of like watching someone’s life go in reverse on fast-forward (and vice-versa). It was probably the closest one can come to blurring 20/20 hindsight (or something). Truthfully, I haven’t figured out why it was perfect or even if it was perfect at all. In the end, I feel oddly comfortably uncomfortable. I feel a little weird. I feel like contradicting myself.
(I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.)
And now I’m not sure what to watch.