Con Air

Okay– so, it’s dumb.

I was getting ready to fold clothes–and there’s ALWAYS a LOT of clothes. I used to call it the laundry monster, remember? We’d pull clothes out of the clean pile and wear them and feed them to the dirty pile and repeat the process?

Well, anyway– trying to catch up with the clothes thing–because yes, it needs to be done, and I’m packing tomorrow, and I like to have my choice of the underwear that don’t fall down, that’s why–and I start flipping through the channels.

And I stumble upon one of Mate’s favorite movies.

Wait for it…

Con Air.

Yes, that Con Air, where we all looked at the pictures and thought, “I didn’t think Nicholas Cage’s hair could get any weirder!”  Where we went, “Oh, look! John Cusack’s in this! He’s ADORABLE. And an ACTION star!”

The one where Steve Buscemi talked about wearing a woman’s head as a hat as he drove through three states.

THAT movie.

And I thought “Yanno… what the hell.”

You have to understand– every time I sat down to work today I got sucked down the political rabbit hole, and I was so. done. I needed something mindless, with explosions and pectorals to restore my faith in humanity and distract me from the fact that folding clothes is a chore that drives me batshit on the worst of days.

So there I was, watching Con Air, when Mate walked in.  And got immediately sucked in.

He stood there, leaning against the bed frame, arms folded, and recited most of the lines for about a fifteen minute section.

Now remember–politics. All day. Which left me feeling particularly icky. And suddenly, there’s Mate, gleeful as a kid, and shit’s going boom, and there’s Nick Cage when he was buff and you know what?

For a little while, all was right with my world.

I need to remember that. Yes, politics are important right now–but so’s shit-go-boom-and-pecs.  For all our sakes. If we can’t laugh at a stupid movie while adulating, we’re doing shit wrong.

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