I’ve been meaning to write . . .

Friday night Brett and I watched all FIVE hours of the Colin Firth version of “Pride and Prejudice.” It was 3:00 when we finally went to bed. After which a number of things happened:

1. My husband lost the last vestiges of his heterosexuality. Seriously, Colin Firth turned my man gay. (Don’t worry after a good night’s sleep he was pretty much straight again.)

2. I had freaky dreams where Colin Firth scolded me about my housekeeping. Mind your own business, Colin!

3. I could not write all week, as everything I wrote had a freaky british-sounding accent and was all Jane Austeny inspired. It only just wore off a minute ago, I swear. I think “21 Jump Street” was the antidote, for anyone who is wondering.

So the moral of the story is that three hours is probably okay, but FIVE hours of Colin Firth is probably too much of a good thing. Maybe. But to be perfectly honest, it’s totally worth it. Because really, he’s really, really, well, let’s just say worth it and leave it at that.