Sunday. That's My Fun Day. My I Don't Have to Run Day.

Slept in, and then stayed in bed to read for a bit. Jen heard the pages turning from the other room (seriously) and came in asking what we were going to have for breakfast. After realizing we had nothing, she left me to my book.

After I downed a a strange breakfast (a salad with strawberries and tofu), we went to go see Last House on the Left. As a kid, I watched the first one amazed and scared and disgusted. This time was different. Movies have come a long way since Wes Craven first made his grainy little exploitation movie, and that was reflected in this new version. Not much of a remake, though there are some familiar moments. The one thing I was waiting for (oral sex gone horribly wrong) was missing, but wouldn't have fit in the film. Still, having things that didn't fit didn't stop them from putting in a death by microwave. I didn't care. I liked it.

Funny thing about that microwave...Jen and I had the place completely to ourselves. No other soul shared the theater. We made it all the way through the movie until the very end when two loud older women came into the room.

"Well, the place isn't very crowded yet!"

"Where do you want to sit?"

This went of for a moment or two before Jen snapped and asked them to be quiet as we were trying to watch the last couple minutes of our film.

"Oh, sorry" they said four times each. We said "That's fine" and resisted the urge to add "Now shut the fuck up."

The ladies made their way to the row behind us and settled in with the occasional whisper. It occurred to me that they didn't seem like the key demographic for a movie like this, but was more surprised that they were willing to watch the end of the film before they had made it through the first hour and a half.

On screen, a man's head messily exploded in a microwave making Jen and I chuckle to ourselves, but it was quiet behind for the first time since the two women had made their way into their seats. The credits came up and Jen and I stepped out into the lighted hallway of our local megaplex. Walking away, I looked over my shoulder to see that the digital sign above our theater door that shows what movie is showing had changed to "Confessions of a Shopoholic".

That brought me so much joy that these two ladies were were easily 35 minutes early for their movie had their rudeness repaid by inadvertently watching some guy's head come apart in a bubbling spray.

Enjoy your movie, ladies.

We rounded out the day by getting newly purchased produce chopped and sliced and ready for the week while singing along with an old Eagles live album. I'm not a big fan of The Eagles, but Jen and I both grew up with them, and we know all the words. Sometimes, that's just what you need.

Now, we're literally sitting back to back in the den, listening to a Band of Horses record and having a drink. Soon, it'll be another salad and some bad TV. Can't wait. Really.