A Small Town Getting Smaller

My Dragoncon passes have arrived. Huzzah! They are currently reposing in their customary place, and Roomie no longer has to hoof it to the mailbox every day in search of those small, blue cards.

In less exhilarating news, the Red Bloat has put in its monthly appearance, and my life force and give a damn are oozing from betwixt my thighs. I didn't get my first-day painkiller until this afternoon, so I was a crampy, aching, sullen pisspot for most of the morning, but the Aleve has done its blessed work, and I'm currently rolling around the house with a book on my lap and listening to Roomie play football on our ancient Gamecube. If the gorgeous weather promised for Monday isn't a sad pipe dream, I might bust out Animal Crossing and spending a tranquil few hours pulling weeds and fishing in the stream. I might break out the bubble soap, too. In another week or two, it will be too sweltering to do anything but sweat until your clothes stick to you like sodden poultices and fantasize about ice cream and cold glasses of iced tea beaded with condensation.

We've got a date to see John Wick 3 on Thursday. I want to see as many movies as possible while we can because I suspect the movie theater here is not long for this world. It's been tottering along for years, kept on life support by the summer blockbusters, but its various managers have never managed it well, and they cut more corners every year. The theaters are fairly modern, but they're indifferently cleaned, and it's not uncommon for projectors to malfunction. Staff is minimal and looks bored, and I sometimes suspect that much of the popcorn has been there since the second Obama administration. Hence, I will not be surprised if it folds by the end of the year. If so, that will be it for the town's entertainment options, and the nearest theater with more than three screens will be ninety minutes away. Such are the hazards of small-town life.