We are not a codfish.

No one ever finished college and said "one day, I would like to be an ordinary guy". My kids never got up and said they would like to have a boring day, Satchmo never looked up at me with his big goofy dog head and looked like he might not want any food, and the germ that Lily brought home last week didn't evolve with only minor discomfort in mind. A tricky one, she was, made me feel crappy - then better - waited until I left the house - and then crappy again. Tuesday night I didn't sleep, went to work on Wednesday & felt like crap. Thursday I went to work (also crappy) came home, passed out, went back to work, crappiness continued.
By Monday, I had lost all hope and decided to stay home. Without the drive or ambition to go the quarter mile to Blockbuster, I spent the day surfing. Ocean's Twelve, Scream, Hittin' It, 50 First Dates, Love Actually, Catwoman, National Treasure, Hudson Hawk and Fried Green Tomatoes to begin with, and snippets of dozens of others. I've discovered, it seems, that I can't sit still. Hate being home sick with nothing to do. I watch something for a minute because I'm too tired to get off the couch, get bored with it, and move on. Flip, flip, flip, flip, flip...
... and then... my mind bends just a bit to keep from going completely mad... and finds... a project.
A project. A sick project... I can remain horizontal, keep my brain mobile. Lines, I think, movie lines - thats the stuff. I'll be a movie nerd for the day. What I would like to do is find my own Ezekiel 25:17 (...I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger...) or "you had me with hello". I find that in the kitchen Nicholas Cage's "bring me the big knife" comes in handy unless someone thinks your serious, and Ron Burgundy's "You pooped in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole wheel of cheese?" rarely can be squeezed into conversation. "You talkin to me?" is overused and as cliche as "Rosebud"... too many Spicoli quotes might make people wonder, and twenty or so movies later, I'm stuck
on the couch
again.
The game is lost, until tonight. We do our usual routine - get everyone changed, read a few books, and let Sam watch tv for 15 minutes before he goes to bed. Tonight though, Sara puts on Mary Poppins and I'm captivated. For a few minutes I'm 5 years old again, every line is golden, and I'm in love. Every glance superior, every comeback snappy, and practically perfect in every way. Unfortunately, the boy can't stay up forever, so I wait patiently for one last line... and it comes, words to live by... "Close your mouth, please, Michael, we are not a codfish"... and finally, I am satisfied.