The other day, Monk didn't have a case to work on and I didn't relish the idea of spending the day sitting around his house sorting out imperfect Wheat Chex from his boxes of breakfast cereal ("It will be fun," he said. "You'll feel like a kid again."). Instead, I talked him into going to this revival theatre in Haight-Asbury that was showing classic Hitchcock movies.
Monk insisted on bringing a plastic seat cover because there was no way he was sitting on something a thousand other people had sat on before him. He also brought disinfectant and delousing spray. And gloves. And baggies to put his gloves in. And gloves to handle the baggies with the gloves in them.
It wasn't easy getting all that stuff past the ticket-taker, but I flashed a smile and a little cleavage (very little…I don't have much to spare) and we got in.
Once we were in the theatre, Monk had to sit dead center in an even-numbered seat. Luckily, the center seat wasn't an odd number or he might have asked me to move the entire row.
Just when I thought we were home free, the movie turned out to be "The 39 Steps." The title alone was enough to drive Monk out of the theatre. But we stayed. It was everyone else who fled, irritated by his incessant whining about the title of the movie and the fact he gave away the whodunit it in the first five minutes.
The blog was sent to every Kindle owner this morning. It should be interesting to see if my Kindle numbers pop on DIRTY COP and, hopefully, THE WALK as well.