I watched two Robert Mitchum films last night, a sort of double feature. The first was "Night of the Hunter", the only film directed by Charles Laughton. It was a great film, with gorgeous images and a dreamlike feeling. It was like being on the inside of a fairy tale. The second was "Cape Fear", with Gregory Peck. In both he is terrifying, but in completely different ways. He had distinctive looks and delivery, and I can see why he was busy in Hollywood. The first film is magic realism and the second is gritty realism.
I'm trying to make this a weekend when I figure out my to-do list for the holidays. Daunting but necessary. My younger son and I are also going to come up with a date for the holiday supper I have each year. Challenging tasks.
But not as challenging and my new washing machine this morning, which seemed to balk and give up on our bedspread. Dear reader, I admit I cried. I also dragged the soggy spread out and it is draped over the tarped picnic table. At times like this I wish I had a clothesline. The machine worked fine the next two loads, so I guess something was on the wrong setting, and perhaps I need a low spin, but I lost my mind for a short while. Now I'm calm again. Maybe.
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