Apropos of Nothing

The other day, my buddy Jeff called me from Germany, to tell me he was watching the Fede Alvarez remake of THE EVIL DEAD, called, horribly, eViL dEAd.  It was a movie I was too afraid to watch (heck, I couldn't sit through the trailer), but he was going to give it a watch.  What's worse, his wife was in Portugal on a . . . get this, a yoga retreat.  Obviously code for something.*

So, Jeff, alone in the house, watched EEEEEEEVILDEEEEEEAD, by himself.  And then, he went to the cinema--again, alone--to see EVIL DEAD RISES, with no one to hold his hand, and then came home on the train to an empty apartment, one filled with shadows, lack of reassuring pets, and windows so large an NBA player-sized murderer could climb through them.

Honestly, this image is effed-up enough I am hesitant to put it on my blog.

But he's more of a man than I am, that much is clear.

So, I was going to go for a run tonight, and around ten-thirty, I finally changed into my sweatpants and light-colored running shirt . . . then watched YouTube and pretended to edit audio until nearly midnight.  Finally, though, I shut off what I was watching (er, I mean, editing my next podcast), and got going.  And I found, disturbingly enough, the front door was open.  It was five minutes to midnight, and the door was not unlocked, but open.  

Gulp.

Thanks, Jeff, for not dragging me to see EVIL DEAD RISE with you.

*Kids, if I ever tell you I'm going on a "yoga retreat," feel free to give me five, wink, and say, "Congratulations, man, but make sure you save your photos in a special, hidden folder."