Derailed

I had big plans this morning, but they got squashed by my husband's inability to find a deposit envelope that he had in his hands just yesterday. He's been looking all over, to no avail, and my "alone time" evaporated into a third cup of coffee sans breakfast and watching our two year old who is proving to be completely obnoxious.

***
Two hours later: My husband found his deposit, my son's in bed for a nap, I went out and picked up lunch, but my "alone time" out-and-about is still shot. ) : Soul Asylum's "Runaway Train" played on the radio in the car, and I felt it. Really felt it.

"Where are my socks?" he just asked. "In your sock drawer," I answered. "Where's that?" he asked. Judging from my look, he says, "I'll find it." Walked away.

***

I watched a film last night that satisfied my penchant for highly conversational scripts, which compensate for the lack thereof in my own life. "Smart" conversations, that is. Not that my husband and I don't talk, but he's been working a lot lately, and talking with a two-year old can become exceptionally one-sided.

The movie: It was called The Girl in a Cafe. There was an added bonus that it was shot partly in Iceland, and I was able to see the streets I once walked down myself while living there. Rising above the city, one can see a church whose steeple I ascended at (my mistake) twelve o'clock. I was taking in the lovely view of the city of Reykjavik, when the bells began to chime the noon hour, right where I was standing. That was really dumb of me. Anyway, it was a good, thinking-sort of film.