What?

Let me set this up for you. July 4th. The hubs throws out his back lifting a humongous bag of dog food (he's demanding I tell you he lifted a house off of a baby). Never happened, more like 40 pounds of dog food happened. The rest of the day, a complete wash, right? Seriously. Copious amounts of rain, cancelled fireworks, rivers overflowing, little sailboat bobbing through the backyard, the works. I know what you're thinking. Go to bed. Pray for sunlight.  No. We're way too interesting to allow rain to wash out this party. Cookout be damned. We ordered takeout (burgers) and then settled down to stuff our faces and watch a movie.

I found P.S. I Love You. Hello! A little Gerard Butler. Can you say, "Man Candy?" 

Hubs shook his head. 

"Jane Eyre?"

Blank stare. 

"The English Patient?"

Rolls eyes. 

"Does everything have to contain fire, ammunition, and a boob in order for it to be deemed a movie?"

Hubs says, "Yes. Yes it does." 

"But it's Jane Eyre."

"Who the hell is Jane Eyre?"

WHAT?

"She's a character in a novel written by, Charlotte Bronte."

"What's she doing on TV if she's supposed to be in a book?"

"They made a movie out of the novel."

"Why would anybody want to do that?"

My turn for the blank stare. 

I do love that man, but he may be the death of me. 

Was your fourth of July better than mine? I ended up reading ANEW, by Chelsea Fine while something exploded on the surround sound in front of me.

As for Jane Eyre? Challenge accepted. :)