Two weekends in a row, I was in the Valley. This time, by myself.
I drove up Saturday morning. Got a couple groceries at that independent grocery store place in Wolfville where they are forever marking stuff half off. The roast beef sandwich was pretty gross, but it was half price. The scalloped potatoes were actually pretty good, and they were half price, too.
The only downer this weekend was that coffee maker. It is a five cup coffee maker I got for next to nothing several years ago. I pour water in at the top like I am supposed to, and a good 20% of it ends up outside the coffee maker, on the counter top. I have run CLR through it a few times now, to no avail. Time to get another coffee maker down there for next to nothing. Sally Ann, here I come.
It was too wet to mow the lawn. I spent some time cleaning up the place a bit, but not nearly enough.
Saturday afternoon, I started to watch Netflix's The Defenders. It was the culmination of their Marvel series: Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage and (yawn!) Iron Fist get together to defeat the Hand because they want to take over the world or some damn thing or other.
There were a few minutes here and there of humour. Iron Fist was acknowledged as the weakest of the four series, by a country mile. The actual character of Iron Fist is a bore. When he starts going on about how he dipped his hand into the heart of a dragon, or whatever he did to become Iron Fist, Luke Cage cuts him off, pretty much calling him a liar and a braggart. Which he is. A boring one, at that.
Eight episodes feels like 12. One character spends much of one episode tied to a chair, unconscious. He wakes up at one point, and then lapses back into unconsciousness for some reason that only servers the thin plot. Other characters spending whole minutes of air time explaining to other characters why they need to do this, or not do that. The air is heavy with this kind of exposition, which by definition slows the action to a crawl.
There are fight scenes, several of them in fact. But they take place at night, with very poor lighting. I literally could not tell who was fighting whom half the time.
Sigourney Weaver is supposedly the big villain this time around, but she has little to do other than to intone the ponderous dialogue that pollutes this production.
I did watch all 8 episodes. Those are hours of my life gone forever. Don't make my mistake. Watch something else. Anything else. May I suggest watching paint dry? During daylight hours? At least you can tell what is going on.
After lunch, I returned to the city. Patricia greeted me with enthusiasm, and Newbie, with his typical indifference. Or was it the other way around? Hard to tell any more.
I had a lovely shower. I am rested and ready for another lovely week of work.
Bring it on.
See you tomorrow.