I just finished watching, for the second time, the first episode of the first season of Unit 42. I watched the episode several months ago and enjoyed it immensely, but somehow got sidetracked, as I am wont to do, and didn’t keep it up. Tonight, I decided I wanted to continue the effort, but I had forgotten almost everything about the first episode. I tend to do that. All I need is 24 hours to utterly obliterate my memory of a television show or a movie. It’s a bad, ugly, miserable flaw. At any rate, I opted to renew my experience with the program. Again, I enjoyed it immensely. It’s not what I’d call high-end television, but it’s a solid French-language police drama with plenty of action and intrigue. Nothing that requires much thought, just a program that requires some attention and an appreciation of plot.
So….I’m just taking a break before I launch into episode number 2. And I will. My only concern is that, after two glasses of wine, I might not recall episode 2 tomorrow, which will require me to watch it again. This could go on for weeks. But it won’t. Because I will watch the entire episode and will plan (and execute the plan) to watch subsequent episodes in a timely fashion.
Tonight is Saturday. Many people are out with friends or family, kicking back and enjoying the weekend. But not me. Instead, I’m at home, watching a French-language television program while my wife is watching who knows what (or reading who knows what) in her nest retreat. Sometimes, I think we live in different epochs. I know I do.
A load of clothes has finished washing AND drying. As I was putting away the clothes, it occurred to me that I haven’t communicated directly with my blood and non-blood nieces and nephews of late. I don’t know why that entered my mind, but it did. I need to make a point of letting those folks know I think about them often. I don’t want to impinge on their lives, but I do want them to know the geezer uncle thinks about them frequently. How does one do that without seeming like a geezer uncle? Especially a distant, not-awfully-close uncle? I don’t know. I’m asking for a friend.
Last night, I had a bizarre dream. I won’t bore you with it; I told my wife about it and she found it strange and inexplicable. The upshot of the dream is that I was lost in a parking lot and I wasn’t sure where I’d gone when I left my car. Except I knew I had to be somewhere in short order to deliver a speech on behalf of (?) my church’s minister. I realized, in the dream, I might be dreaming. That was a strange element of the experience.
Sadness envelopes me like a damn hot, uncomfortable blanket. I don’t know why. I loathe this feeling of isolation and anguish. It’s not a normal Saturday night feeling. Jesus, I think I need to down an ounce or three of Black Jack Tennessee whiskey; that should put me back right with the world. But first, I have to watch another episode of Unit 42. And maybe it will dissuade me from swilling Black Jack.