Yesterday afternoon Sylvia screamed up at the ceiling, fists clenched in frustration, eyes pinched shut in rueful ennui: "I'm bored!"
I rushed into the theatre room where my wife reclined. My eyes roamed speculatively across our collection of movies and television shows, searching for the perfect entertainment. They came to rest upon the gaudy boxed sets of Mystery Science Theater 3000, a program much adored by geeks.
"How about one of these?" I asked.
"What's the premise?" Sylvia replied.
"It's about mad scientists who maroon a guy in space and force him to watch horrible movies," I explained.
"So basically what you do to me every weekend," she said.
I had no response to that and retreated back to my office, defeated.