I’m not very good at this

No matter which way I approach the matter, the truth is that I’m not very good at returning movies on time. And of course, by “not very good” I mean “essentially incapable.” In the days when I patronized Blockbuster, I think I managed to put three or four employees’ children through college and graduate school with my many, many late fees. It’s enough to make one decide not to rent movies anymore. From an economist’s standpoint (which I rarely take, given that I believe economics is a made-up science for socially inept people who are good at graphs), I can’t help but factor the late fees into the rental cost, yielding an actual cost that is much, much higher.

Did you know that not all Blockbusters are created equal? They aren’t. They can set their own prices, which really bakes your noodle the one time you go BBuster hopping trying to find a copy of Superstar to view before a pep rally at work, for which you’ve been asked to perform a Mary-Catherine Gallagher skit. I don’t know anyone that’s happened to.

I really enjoyed digital cable when I had it a few years ago. Not cheap, by any means, but I had the package that included something like 42 versions each of HBO, Encore, and Starz, so there was always a movie or episode of SITC to watch. Always. Of course, I solved this problem completely by taking on way too many teaching gigs outside of work and thus rendering the idea of spending upwards of 80 large a month on cable I would never be home to watch laughable at best.

I know, I know…there are other options now. I hear people rave about Netflix all the time, and maybe someday I’ll give it a spin. Come to think of it, I remember something about my mom promising to get me a 6 month gift subscription two Christmases ago, but it never happened. Clearly, I’m no worse for the wear. The idea is spectacular, but I fear the reality would quickly dissolve into me feeling angry and used over the fact that I continue to pay $20 a month for two movies I can’t bring myself to send back. Oy.

Last year, it seemed like there was an answer to all my movie rental problems: they installed a DVD vending machine in my apartment complex. For $3.50 (less if you have the coupon they email you after each rental), you can check out one of several new releases. Perfect, right? I thought so. Your $3.50 gives you the thing until midnight on the second calendar day from the day you rent it. The machine is in the fitness center, so it’s accessible 24-7. Not a huge selection, but incredibly painless when you feel like thurpling downstairs and grabbing a movie without a lot of bother.

Pete and I decided to rent movies and do a whole lot of nothing last Friday and Saturday, and the DVD machine was really handy. No trip to the out-of-the-way-for-both-of-us BBuster, a fine selection of new releases from which we chose two, and a price that’s at least a dollar below the rental market for our area. All we (I) had to do was return them by 11:59 p.m. on Sunday. It was a tragedy, therefore, that I decided to rewatch Love Actually on Sunday evening. Somehow, as I sifted through the (muted) bonus material and listened on the phone to volumes one through four of the lizard-in-my-best-friend’s-house adventure, 12:30 came around awfully quickly.

Dammit.

They’re still sitting on my kitchen counter, too.

Double dammit.