I was so on board with Promising Young Woman until the stupid trope of lip-syncing in the convenience store/pharmacy/wherever. God. I freaking love musicals, like more than your average person and can do the entirety of Cats, Miss Saigon, Phantom of the Opera, Evita, Rent, West Side Story, A Star is Born and Grease (and more, probably) without pausing to think about the lyrics to the songs and yet if someone starts up a song in the middle of a movie randomly I am SO offended. The first time was Stepmom. The whole singing-in-the-kitchen in a happy moment while the music swells from the radio to surround the film watcher?
NOPE. HATE IT.
(This one issue just took over and so I have no social-political rant about the themes of the movie itself. Let's just say pretty much all of my boys were horrified from start to finish by how they all think they would be nice guys too. Until they aren't. Or weren't, I guess.)
Ben and I went for a long walk in the pouring rain this morning so I could forage for sticks to make my own crochet hooks and toggle buttons for sweaters. I am going to give away my sewing machine and stick with what I truly enjoy. I always hated machine sewing anyway. I took a long break from my own crunchiness and now I feel it coming back in tiny puffs of magic just around the edges. Or maybe the long creativity drought has ended. Ha.
Probably not but I clocked eight full hours on my CPAP machine so things are looking fucking fine today.
So fucking fine. Watching I See You now. Will report tomorrow.