It takes a lot to get me out of the house on the weekend. The stars have to be aligned, I suppose, and the movie has to start late enough that I can sleep in, but not so late that I canít get back before dark. Oh, and it has to be somebody elseís idea. Left to my own devices, Iíll vegetate. As proof, I offer nearly every Saturday journal entry for the last five years.
Itís been so long since Iíve seen a movie in a theater that I was foolishly nervous when I set out to pick up Mom for our trip to the Rialto this afternoon. As always, my biggest fear was looking ridiculous. What if we got there late? What if the parking lot was full? What if we couldnít find good seats?
Iím always a mess of emotional doubts when confronted with an unanticipated situation, and I remembered having to drive away from the theater a year ago, simply because of factors of time and space. By the time Iíd driven around the parking lot a couple of times, it would have been too late to make the start of the picture even if we had found a spot. Is it any wonder I stay home most of the time?
But today we had better luck. I had to squeeze into the last free spot in the lot, a little too close for comfort to the Camaro in the next stall. There would have been more spaces available if so many people hadnít decided to take up more than one spot.
It worked out, but I got a little tense walking through the lot to the lobby entrance, because so many drivers were circling, looking at cars and not people. If Iíd had a baseball bat or a steel pipe with me, I donít know if I could have resisted doing some damage. Thatís what I get for staying home all the time. Iím ill equipped to deal with traffic, human or vehicular.