Three vignettes
Earlier this evening I was vegetating on the couch watching The Simpsons, one of my favorite television shows, while Mrs. Happy busily toiled in the kitchen chopping vegetables and grilling chicken for our supper. The episode told the story of how Otto, the pot-smoking, headbanging, slacker school bus driver, almost got married. On his wedding day, his bride told him that he had to choose between her and heavy metal music. At that point in the show, my wife called to me from the kitchen, "Curt, do you want to come talk to me?" I nearly responded by saying, "Let me just finish this show first." But as I drew breath to speak, Otto left his girl at the altar and sped away in a school bus carrying with him Cyanide, a Poison cover band he had hired to play the wedding march.
I turned off the TV and helped my wife in the kitchen.
I related the above story to Mrs. Happy as I began grating cheese. She asked if I had seen that episode before, and I told her I hadn't. She said I should finish watching the last 15 minutes, then return so she could tell me about her day. She's wonderful that way.
I didn't actually get to finish the episode. My mother-in-law called and talked to me for exactly 15 minutes.
Earlier today, The Mysterious Cloaked Figure and I went to a local cinema to see the movie Elektra. One of the previews touted a movie called Mr. and Mrs. Smith starring Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie as (from what I could tell) deadly assassins who pretend to lead normal lives, going so far as to hide their work even from each other. They go to such lengths to appear normal that they end up just boring each other until they eventually find out the truth and endeavor to kill each other in extended fight scenes. After the preview, MCF leaned over to me and said, "Talk about marriage in a hostile world." Indeed.
