Earlier today my guy and I had driven past an old closed movie theater.
I said, "The last movie I saw there was also the first one I saw there, guess that'd make it the only one I'd seen there."
My guy agreed.
I continued, "It was "The Hours". Did you ever see it?"
My guy denied it.
I pressed on, "It was the one about, oh what's her name, she was very
very depressed and eventually put rocks in her pockets and waded into
the river and drowned. Oh, you know....Nicole Kidman played her."
My guy remained silent and gazed out the windshield.
I muttered, "And Myrle Streep was in it. And ah, ah, ah, oh, that
other woman that was sorta popular for awhile and she was in that other
movie with uh, ya know the one after "Silence of the
Lambs". Ya know, she played Clarice Starling?"
My guy maintained his silence and was now gazing at me.
I was becoming increasingly flustered, "K, so anyway, the movie, "The
Hours" was really good. I just can't remember who it was
about. She wrote all the time."
Very tentatively my guy offered, "Sylvia Plath?"
"No, no, no, she has her own movie and I think ummm, uh, either Paltrow or Diaz portrays her."
He tries again, cuz obviously this is really bothering me, "Dorothy Parker?"
"No, no, no, she was played by Winona Ryder I think, or maybe I'm wrong...."
He lapses into silence.
I admit momentary defeat, but vow that I will win the battle I waged
against myself, "You know good and well that as soon as I get home, I
am looking it up on the net."
About 15 minutes later, I cry triumphantly from the study, "Virginia Wolff!!"
He agrees with relief.
I feel better.
I think he feels better that I feel better, cuz I'm pretty sure it was starting to get to him.
He puts up with lots.
I love him so.