Personal Movie Actor-Outer

I find lately, seeing as I have a quite a bit of "me" time on my hands, that I imagine little moments out of my day as scenes from movies.  Or scenes from a movie.  The movie in my head. (This is confiding a lot since I am risking coming across like an insane person.  And/or completely narcissistic.)  I feel somewhat confident that I am not alone in doing this.  But I do believe it's one of those unspoken tidbits in our culture.  The personal movie acting-outer. 

I get nervous sometimes when I'm home alone and someone comes to the door.  And a snippet from my "action" movie begins.  SPEED...aaaand ACTION!  I may lean against the kitchen wall and sneak a peek down the hallway to have a look out the window to see who is at the door.  Or I will get on my hands and knees (yes, I have done this) and crawl through the living room, onto the couch and peer through the blinds.  My heart pounds.  I barely breathe.  And then the Little Leaguer selling chocolate bars walks back down my driveway.  AND SCENE!

Just a few days ago, I applied make-up to my face.  Brown eyeliner, some blush and some earthy colored lipstick.  Then I went about my day, which consisted of putting away laundry, making beds, cleaning the kitchen, looking for a job, etc.  A few times I'd catch a glimpse of myself in a bedroom mirror.  And I felt ridiculous all painted up.  I'm not really sure why.  I'm not against make-up.  I'm sure I need it to enhance my look.  Aaaaaand ACTION!  Like a Geisha looking in the mirror attempting to see her true identity, an identity that had been stolen from her when she was a child, I slowly began to wipe the make up off my face.  First smearing it, but then wiping my face clean, revealing my natural beauty (reminder: this is a movie.  And I already mentioned the potential for narcissism.)  Satisfied, I took a simple bobby pin and pulled a strand of hair off my face.  I stood about an inch from the mirror inspecting my clean face for a few seconds, then went back to my chores.  AND SCENE!  I was particularly brilliant in this one.

Just yesterday, I became a character typically played by Laura Linney.  The likable, scattered, about-to-crack mother, driving the two boys home from daycare.  I'd given them both peaches in their car seats to eat on the drive home.  In the rear view mirror I could see the juice of the fruit running down  their faces, fingers and down to their elbows.  Both boys were getting sticky and a little uncomfortable, thus whiny.  I kept an upbeat tone telling them "it's just fruit from the peaches.  we'll get you cleaned up as soon as we get home.  it's not a problem to get a little messy."  But in my movie close-up, my subtle expression was revealing "what made you think peaches in the car with no napkins made sense?  now you'll have a mess to deal with. why don't you have more foresight?" I gazed out at the open road ahead. And then, we pulled into the driveway.  AND SCE..... um...I said AND SCEN.....why hadn't the action stopped?   I totally nailed that one!  The boys were waiting for me to take the peach pits and half eaten bits of fruit from them.  Which I did.  Then I unbuckled them from their carseats with my own sticky hands.  Wiped them both down with a previously-used napkin from the car floor.  In my head, I was yelling AND SCENE!  AND SCENE!  AND SCENE!  Then I realized the credits were running.  The boys and I decided to have a rambuncious running contest to the mailbox.  And FADE.