You da man, Netflix! ("You are too, Phil!")

I opened my mailbox Monday, and there was a Netflix movie. "Huzzah!" I wooped. It was a foreign "film". (Don't you hate when people say "film"? I do, so I'm putting it in quotations to show I don't take the word - or myself - too seriously.) I'm looking FOREIGward to it. (See what I did there?)

(That's not the climax of the story, guys. We're still in "rising action" mode.)

Then I got some email from Netflix about how they couldn't get When Harry Met Sally to me even though it was first in my queue, but they'll try soon. "No worries," I thought, because I'm a laid-back gal.

Whoosh ahead to today. I open my mailbox just like I did Monday and - whoa! - another Netflix treat! And it was W.H.M.S., the same gall darn about which the rascals emailed me! This probably isn't a big deal to you 2-movies-at-a-time richies, but I scrimp. I pay for only one.

So I was like, "Shooooo, I bet I accidentally upgraded." A little clickity clacking on the internet showed me that no, I hadn't upgraded. Netflix was just being a sweetie! They gave me W.H.M.S. just to be the dollfaces they are. (That was the story's climax.)

Now I have extra-strong, positive feelings toward Netflix and I want you, reader pal, to subscribe if you hadn't already.

(That was the resolution. I will try to write more posts in story line format because I want to prove to my students how applicable our lessons are to real life.)