I still enjoy a good movie. But I’ve noticed that my tolerance-level for bad movies is dissipating. I no longer have the cavalier habit of chalking up a disappointing flick as just another bad movie. I’m more prone to take it as a personal affront — as though a theft of my time, my valuable time, had occurred. And since it’s my decision (usually) to see a certain movie, it means the damage is self-inflicted. It’s the epitome of adding insult to injury.

A direct result of this concern is that my wife and I rarely go to the movies anymore. We may rent one or pay for one through cable TV, knowing that we may lose a few bucks if we pull the plug, but that’s the extent of our loss. The concept of risking valuable time is no longer a part of our entertainment game-plan. No sense in going to the picture show. No siree, not when I can fall asleep in the recliner with an open can of vienna sausage and saltine crackers beside me; have the television blaring a “Seinfeld” re-run with a crossword puzzle falling off my lap. Now that’s, accomplishing something!

Nonetheless, about once every two years, we do go to the drive-in theater. I find that sitting in the car alleviates the terrifying aspect of commitment that is characteristic of indoor movie theaters. Movie theaters make me feel trapped. An added plus at the drive-in is that I get to play on the swings.

There are other perks. You can’t just start gabbing at your wife in a movie-house once the curtain goes up. But, when you’re at the drive-in, even though she’s sound asleep, you can talk away as long as you want (Incidentally, her personal best for staying awake after the movie had started is a whopping 17 minutes). No one tells you to shut your pie-hole at the drive-in theater ... because, like I said, she’s asleep.

And so, it was about a week ago when we decided to go to the outside picture-show. There were a couple of benign comedies on and we thought we’d give it a try. As usual, the show didn’t start until about 45 minutes after it was advertised, so I headed right for the swings. By the time I got back, I found that we were fortunate enough to attract every species of flying bug on the planet into the car. Have you ever had the pleasure of splattering a two-pound bug on the INSIDE of your windshield? Nice.

They now run commercials before the main attraction. I never felt so defenseless. Without my remote control, I had to sit there and watch that schizophrenic Geico caveman. It’s a coin flip as to which is more unbearable: That guy or his polar opposite, Dr. Phil. When the movie did start and the opening credits — that’s the OPENING credits, mind you — were coming to a close, my wife was long gone — sound asleep. Six minutes off her record.

“Land of the Lost” with Will Ferrell was the first of the double-header. The concept of the movie is that he’s gone back into pre-historic times (or something like that). I was so tempted to wake my wife to see if she had any idea as to how they trained the dinosaurs that appeared in the movie, but, I resisted. I resisted because I knew I’d be waking her, again, in between the shows, so that she could watch the dancing hot dogs and trapeze-artist ice-creams-on-a-stick. Those things are so cool.

I waited until the best part was over — when the animated clock said “1 minute to show time” — and then, packed it in. Time to leave. And like every human being who goes or who has been to the drive-in, I kept the radio station tuned to the same frequency to see how far away I could get before I lost the signal.

The night wasn’t a total loss. Even though some kid named Joey screamed to his mother that I was hogging the swing — the big crybaby — my wife got a wonderful night’s sleep. And I got to take home the largest bug collection known to mankind.

And that’s the way it looks from the Valley.

Tom Valley is a Medina resident. His column runs every Thursday. Write to Tvalley@rochester.rr.com.