"Let's do something." The dreaded words. The giddy promise of possibilities, the sturdy dullness of reality. The best moment is when you've just decided that you want to go out, but haven't even considered particulars yet. The moment is pristine and full of hope and possesses a childlike innocence so tenacious that even repeated assertions of flabby reality can never completely dislodge it.

Movies are always an option, in the way sleeping is always an option, or another bowl of cereal. To be fair, it's true that I love cereal.

Another Cry in the Dark. Meryl Streep reprises her role as ruddy trash Lindy Chamberlin from the movie which immortalized the campy line "A dingo stole my baby!" In this wrenching sequel, the Chamberlins are on safari in Africa, and tragedy strikes again as her infant son is carried off by a deranged secretary bird. A third installment is already in the works, A Cry in the Dark in Paris.

No.

Okay, then how about Dead Tired? According to this, it's a stylish noir in which the contestants of a 1940's dance marathon are killed one by one, and intrepid but exhausted sleuth Chazz Palminteri must solve the mystery and keep dancing, dancing, dancing.

Those sound horrible. What about Red Rhombus? I saw an ad on the side of a bus, it looked intriguing. Just this big red rhombus and the date. What's a rhombus? I'm looking at the ad here in the paper, I can't even tell what it's about. There's a picture of William Hurt leaning back-to-back against Melanie Griffith, and they have their arms crossed, you know the pose, that hackneyed movie pose, and off to one side there's John Leguizamo on a donkey, and he and the donkey both have comically crossed eyes. The tag line is "Be careful what you wish for!" What that has to do with rhombuses I have no idea. Rhombi.

There's always dinner. Even a middle-sized American city provides an impressive number of domestic and international cuisines any night of the week. Those other cultures are such chumps, eating the same food day after day.

Dervish: A Taste of Old Constantinople.

After that, maybe a book reading, let's expand our horizons a bit. Down at The Irritable Bookworm, this woman Margaret Tot is reading from her new book Milky Like Me: People of No Color and the Problem of Pigmentism in American Life. She's described as "a differently abled albina, but most of all a Woman of Power and Personal Strength." The book is about "one of the cruel paradoxes of modern life, that the most virulent discrimination based on skin color is reserved for those with no skin color at all." She's spearheading a grassroots political campaign to make taunting albinos a hate crime.

Too heavy, let's go clubbing instead. We could try Scenophobia maybe, in that "space" reclaimed from the old smelting plant. Hmm, maybe not. I don't really think you can satirize bad clubs with ironically stained banquettes and ironically surly bartenders.

Let's stay in and watch television.