Hancock, we hardly knew ye

Yesterday I sent the movie Hancock back to Netflix unwatched. Sorry, Will. But I've had it laying around here for about a month and the time just never seemed right to spend two hours with a surly superhero. It appears Knadler's Law applies to Netflix movies the same way it applies to things decomposing in the refrigerator: They never seem more attractive the next day. You think that potato salad is a bit iffy now, wait until Monday.

Sending a Netflix movie back unopened usually means it's time to cancel or suspend my subscription. I do that about once a year, after realizing I've seen all the newer movies I care to see and crowding the queue with stuff I might not pick up if I saw it lying on the sidewalk. I've got a few of this year's more obscure Oscar nominees on there, but they're all marked "Short wait," or "Long wait," or "releases sometime in the distant future." I wonder: Do I really want to see Doubt or Milk? And if I have to wait, why not wait without the inconvenience of a subscription fee?

Which, incidentally, has just gone up. Netflix recently notified me that they're bumping the cost of getting Blu-Ray movies. It's just an extra three bucks a month, but since I'm not watching the Blu-Ray movies I'm getting now, maybe there are better uses for the dough. Donuts from The Donut Whole, for example.

I'll think about it. The question is always whether to run out the queue or just go cold turkey. If I quit now, it'll mean a very long wait indeed for such films as Quantum of Solace, Hard Candy, and, way down at the bottom of queue, Help. If I stay, it's probably hurting the environment somehow and is certainly depriving me of much-needed donut money. Not to mention the guilt I'll feel when I send them back unopened.