Kris invited me to see Total Recall with her today. Isn’t that nice? A relaxing afternoon sitting around the movie theater.
We entered the pitch dark theater, and I knew I wanted pictures of my popcorn, so I asked Kris to turn on the lights for me as we passed the switch.
Kris wanted to sit in the tippy top row, and I didn’t care where we sat, so…up the stairs. Walking. Don’t want to spill my free medium popcorn.
But before pictures: bathroom. Lightly ran back down the steps.
Then back up the stairs.
When I came back I realized we were the first ones in the theater, but wouldn’t be for long, so grabbed Alex and ran down the stairs to get a shot of Kris before anyone else arrived.
Done. Need to get back to my seat. Zip back up the steps.
Asked Kris to help me get a shot of the free medium popcorn, but we needed to move to a row with a better light source for the shot.
Down the steps.
Gave Kris lots of instructions on how to take the shot.
Done, so back to our seats…up the stairs.
Commercials/previews started, and I remembered that I’d turned on the light switch, so I needed to go turn it off.
Dash back down the stairs.
Flip light switch.
Dash back up the stairs, two at a time.
And to think that I’d been upset that I missed my morning exercise on the treadmill. But now, I can cross “exercise” off my to-do list.
Later this evening, I talked with Bridgette. Bridgette seems to think I’m upset in my phone calls, and I’ve sort of wondered why she thinks that.
It was all cleared up this evening when she made the observation, “I’m starting to realize that you always sound nervous on the phone, but it’s just nervous energy.”
If I could, I’d run everywhere. The last time I was out with Mom, we started walking, and I got going at my normal pace and didn’t even notice until 6 blocks later that I’d left her far behind. “Where’s Mom?” “Wait for meeeeee!!!!”
Just the other day at WalMart, Darling Husband was waaaaay on the other side of the store and needed our insurance card. You do not know how hard it was for me not to set off at a full gallop, get the cart up to speed and then hop on for a ride.
And I know I’m not the only one.
When my father-in-law was fifty years old, fifty years old, he was in a department store with my mother-in-law. Dad and Mom needed to head to the second floor of the store. As they passed the down escalator, on their way to the up escalator, Dad eyed it. Mom could read his mind and said a firm, “Richard! No!”
But he gave her a big grin, and took off. A fifty year old man took off and ran up the down escalator.
He ran, ran, ran, and made it aaaaalmost to the top, when he tripped, and went sprawling across the shiny tile floor. A security guard was waiting for him at the top, shaking his head. The guard said, as Dad slowly pushed himself off the floor, “And that, sir, is why we don’t run up the down escalator.” Mom pretended she didn’t know him.
And then, there was my dad in the bank. You know how, before ATM and Debit cards, banks used to be filled with customers all the time, and you’d have to wait in long lines that were separated with velvet ropes? But sometimes, if you were very lucky, there wouldn’t be a line. In that case, most people would gently step over the ropes to get to the front of the line.
But not my dad. When he saw that there was no one in line, he started at one end of the bank and took off. He got up to speed and then leaped over the rope. But his foot caught. He, too, ended up sprawled across the shiny tile floor. My mother and I pretended we didn’t know him.
So, I restrained myself and did not run across Walmart and ride the cart to the Pharmacy section. I’ve learned from my elders.
I’m content with running up and down theater steps.