First there was my “Anticipation” as the local theatre was “making me wait, keeping me wa-a-waiting . . .”
Waiting, of course, to find out if and when “Into the Storm” would be gracing the screens of the nearest multiplex.
Because assuming it would, would make an “ass” out of me, right? Never assume anything.
Well, after being more or less bedridden for close to 24 hours (chalk it up to FMS, sciatica, severe muscle spasms in my back and ulnar nerve pain in the wrist), I picked up my almost-dead cordless phone noon-ish today and once again punched in the numbers for the theater’s hotline. And what do you know . . . the first thing announced by the recorded voice THIS time was “For Into the Storm, press 1 . . .” I gave an inner *squee* and hastily hit that button. I heard the show times just before the phone gave up the ghost and insisted it be charged for seven hours.
So, you see, I haven’t got time for the pain–not since RA arrived in town in the guise of Gary Morris. Oh, I still hurt, but I’m definitely better than early this morning, and even more so, now that I know I have this guy to look forward to seeing tomorrow: