My little problem

I have a “little problem.” No, it’s not drinking or shoplifting or incontinence. It’s the inability to watch violent or sexually overexplicit or deeply sad movies without experiencing intense anxiety that keeps me awake. So when Other or one of my kids raptures on about some wonderful movie, there’s a flick at my disability: “You wouldn’t like it, though. It would upset you.” This handicap has created a subgenre in our household viewing archives: Movies Mom Can Watch. This is a seriously pitiable category, consisting almost entirely of failed romcoms. Even I find them nearly unwatchable. They include the irritating and offensive “It’s Complicated,” the dispiriting “The Good Guy” and last night’s oppressive “Morning Glory.” I have high hopes, however, for tonight’s showing: “Another Year.” And there was, of course, the joy that was “Downton Abbey.”