Is there anything as wonderful as being in the haze of a food coma AND being able to watch Harrison Ford get all semi-dressed and sweaty?

I THINK NOT!

So yesterday the spousal unit's family held a belated birthday potluck down at the home farm for our daughter Jess. The table just groaned with food and when the main meal was done there were four count 'em four homemade desserts brought out, PLUS a birthday cake.

The verb which best describes us all after this meal would be waddle.

So we waddled back home and collapsed in a stupour on the couch, fully willing to give ourselves over to the Monkey Business marathon that was running on the tee vee.

Oh yes, the three of us were prepared to watch twelve straight hours of a tee vee show about a monkey shelter in England that had a bazillion chimps.

When you are that strung out on sugar, chimps are mesmerizing.

The daughter, however, has inherited her father's need to obsessively channel surf during each and every commercial break, which means we stumbled into that Harrison Ford classic "Witness" about 20 minutes into the movie.

While the other two wanted to go back to the chimps, I made it clear that I Have My Needs.

These needs would most definitely include the mid-1980's Harrison Ford doing carpentry with his shirt partially open.

Then there is the scene with Harrison with his shirt OFF because he has a bullet wound and he needs care and he's all sinewy and just the right amount muscle-y and his chest is just the right amount of fuzzy and ...

Is it just me, or is it getting extremely warm in here?

Oh, wait, at my age that could be a hot flash.

Nevermind.

The spousal unit takes dark delight in teasing me about my Personal Lust Object. He mentioned to the daughter that we just saw Harrison in K-19 and He Is Not Aging Well.

Excuse me? EXCUSE ME?

In a normal situation, the only rational response to those words would have been fisticuffs. But, well, I was in a food stupour.

There was also the fact that there might be future scenes in "Witness" where Harrison's shirt would have to be opened or come off completely so he could um build something or uh get his wound tended.

You know, stuff that's deeply integral to the plot.

So instead of giving the spousal unit the thrashing he deserved, I ignored his mendacity and Took The High Road, concentrating on the possible appearance of crucial shirt-related plot elements.

Oh yes, I'm ALL about the high road.