We lost power for most of today.
I work from home, which means that my office of one was closed.
“You could get caught up with your reading,” W suggested in a text in response to my bulletin about the power situation.
The reading is Life of Pi. We both read the book a couple of years ago but decided to read it again before we go see the movie, which is out in theaters now.
We take books and movies and movies based on books very seriously in our house.
W has a long commute and re-read Life of Pi in about a week. That is record time for her. She passed our paperback copy of the book onto me.
Recently, I declared that I was fine seeing the movie without re-reading the book.
“You have to read the book,” W insisted.
“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I’m perfectly ok with going to the movie now and re-reading the book later.”
We’ve been engaging in this back-and-forth for about four weeks now.
W insists that I can read the book in like a day because I’m an English major.
I’m a fast reader, but I’m not that fast. It’s not Dostoevsky, but it’s still 400 pages.
I tell her, sure, I’ll read Life of Pi in between getting ready for Thanksgiving and packing lunches and cooking dinner and chauffeuring kids and doing the laundry and oh yeah working. At my job. That pays me money.
“So when you ask what’s for dinner, I’ll have to tell you we’re having Life of Pi,” I say.
When we went out on Saturday to celebrate W’s birthday, we stopped at a small used bookstore to browse. I picked up a copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. In this case, I had seen the movie (American version) but had not read the book.
This could be me
And I kind of have this Rooney Mara fantasy. Not that I want to do her. But be like her skinny, bad-ass, ass-kicking, motorcycle-driving, mohawk-sporting character Lisbeth Salander and have sex with hot young girls.
“I think I’ll read this before Life of Pi,” I say just to tweak W.
I tell the clerk about my assigned reading.
The clerk seems perplexed, probably because I’m the oldest student she’s ever seen.
So, with no power, there’s not much else to do besides read. I bang out about 175 pages of Life of Pi. I’ll have the book finished by the weekend just in time for a movie date.
When I start reading the book, I’m reminded that the Bengal tiger’s name is Richard Parker.
I think Richard Parker would make a great name for a house cat. Sort of like Jenny Lawson’s Hunter S. Tomcat. Besides, I’m always trying to one-up Lawson. What blogger isn’t?
I text W.
Me: Let’s get a cat and name him Richard Parker.
W: No more boy cats.
Read: We already have a male cat and he sprays all over the place like a city fire hydrant on an August afternoon.
Me: Ok. A girl named Dorothy Parker.
Read: See how flexible I am? And witty, too. Just like Dorothy Parker. How perfect!
Read: My fake enthusiasm should be telling you that there’s no way in hell that we’re getting another cat right now.
Read: I’m so excited that you just gave me permission to get a new cat even though you really didn’t mean it.
Stay tuned, folks.