"I fear sometimes that I've wasted my life," I said.
"Watching Owen Wilson being eaten by a snake makes you have to assess your life?" she asked. "That's just wrong in all sorts of ways."
"Seriously, Muse. What have I got now that I'm thirty-six that I didn't have when I was sixteen, other than student loan debt and gray hairs in my beard?"
She pinched me hard on the thigh, and I flinched and hissed. "If you can't figure that one out for yourself, dummy," she said, "then you deserve more than a pinch."
"Okay, okay! Jesus, Muse. Can't you ever teach me a lesson that doesn't involved a blood blister?"
"Never," she said, and took the soda bottle from me. "You only learn when I hold your hand to the fire."
I rubbed my thigh where she'd pinched me. "And I'm supposed to thank you for that?"
"You love me," she said. "Now shut up and watch the movie. I want to see me some more giant snake action."
