I have become the old lady who complains about change

Several factors are working against my enjoying Hollywood entertainment.

Tonight I was headed home thinking I had the house to myself for a few hours, and I wanted to rent a movie.

But Blockbuster, in its efforts to thwart my being entertained by Hollywood, had closed, and I didn’t want to drive into the next town for a rental.

So I pulled into the grocery parking lot and ran in to try the Redbox I’ve heard so much tell about.

I knew what I wanted, kind of. I wanted to rent ‘Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,’ because I read an article by Ellen Burstyn about the experience of producing that flick; and I wanted to rent some movie about Virginia Woolf with Nicole Kidman in it that I don’t know the name of, because I’m currently reading ‘The Diary of Virginia Woolf.’

I am not the guy the Redbox was made for.

But I had decided to try the damn thing, and I’m stubborn, so I got a Robert Downey Jr./Marissa Tomei movie from the early ’90s and went home.

I will have to return it unwatched, though, because I cannot figure out how to watch a DVD, and it will be months before I have the house to myself again. For a moment I considered going out and watching it from the back seat of my car.

It’s not that I don’t know how to use the DVD player. It’s that there are lots of other things hooked up to my TV, and my son went off to college.

He warned me this day would come. He wanted to teach me the ways of the remotes.

I told him all I needed was for him to teach me to Skype.

He said, ‘Mom, I’m not going to wait until I’ve gone and then teach you to do it over the computer.’

Of course not. That would be silly.

‘I just need you to rent the movies I want to watch and turn your computer in that direction.’ Duh.

He won’t do it, because he is working against my enjoyment of Hollywood.


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