Turns out I own clothes that I've never even worn

Each weekend starts with the intention of seeing The Wrestler. Each weekend ends with us having failed.

Friday night would have been an ideal candidate but, well, being tired and wanting to watch BSG won out. Put another way: we are old. Yesterday Nellie and I were both busy, and we went to Mercatto for dinner on a lark…very tasty. I can see that becoming our regular Italian place. Anyway, long story short: it was cold as balls outside so we didn’t stray far from home. Plus, we don’t relish the idea of the Scotiabank theatre on a Saturday night, chock full of middling teenagers ambling into screenings of Paul Blart: Mall Cop.

Today the timing just didn’t work, especially after Nellie undertook her ideal Sunday pastime of sleeping until noon. I used this alone time to destroy her best time in Wii Fit Advanced Snowboard and other similar accomplishments. Then we had breakfast, got groceries and went on a badass cleaning binge. I’m talking an almighty purge, people…stuff getting thrown out, recycled, put on Craigslist*…there’s a Goodwill pile here the size of a Shetland pony.

Time for the weekend summary. Pluses: relaxing, tasty, productive. Minuses: boring, lame. 3-2, w00t!!

* speaking of: anybody want a slightly used Roomba? Two wooden Ikea folding chairs? A crystal punch bowl?

0 responses to “Turns out I own clothes that I've never even worn

  1. Actually, I don’t think that would matter. I mean, most teenagers don’t go to the same movies I go to, but the Scotiabank (nee Paramount) theatre is famous for hosting gaggles of obnoxious teenagers heading into *other* theatres. You just have to fight through them and step over their spilled nacho cheese dip to get to your film.

    That’s why the Varsity is the best theatre in the city: virtually no kids.

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