Chaud

I imagine by now you've all heard about this little heat wave we're experiencing up here in the Northeast. I'm doing my best not to complain about it because a) that will solve exactly nothing 2) there was a time, in the not so distant past, where I was moaning and groaning about the snow and bitter cold and III) there's actually something oddly uniting about a few days of intense heat in the city. Take, for instance, this sign I stumbled upon at a local pizza joint this afternoon while in route to the movie theater near my home:

So, yes. It is h-o-t these days. And if the beach or the pool isn't an option what better way to beat the heat than spend a few hours at the blissfully air-conditioned cinema, right? I wandered down to my neighborhood theater this afternoon to finally catch the utterly romantic and charming Midnight in Paris. One of my guilty pleasures is sneaking off to the movies alone on random afternoons, a habit I developed while living in London years ago. Of course, I enjoy going to the movies with people too. There's an instant companion and an immediate ear to bend about the film you've just seen when you leave the theater with a friend by your side.

However, sometimes flying solo is just a treat. There's this notion of loveliness about it all that I adore. You snag your ticket, maybe (definitely) treat yourself to a bag of popcorn, choose a solo seat based on your preferences alone, and then, while the rest of the world spins on its merry way, you are immersed in the dark, watching a story unfold surrounded by strangers who are also watching that same story. You share a collective laugh, perhaps a tear, or maybe a shudder and then, as the lights go up, you all head back to your own daily routines. It's like this little shared secret, one you get to walk out of the theater with and carry along through the rest of your day.

Plus, in this instance, I felt like I'd been whisked off to Paris for a couple of hours. What's not to love about that?