Do you remember when we used to make Thursday night our own? Stop the world! It is time for a movie.

We’d always try to kick if off with a few laps at the indoor pool, followed by a jaunt to the caf where we’d serve up bowls of cereal or pop a bag of popcorn. This was usually a good excuse to see if our latest crush just so happened to be in the caf too. Not that we looked in the least bit appealing with our wet hair, braids, and pajama pants, but it was worth the effort, no?

We’d then retire to 107 and put on a movie we’d decided on earlier in the week. Half-way through I’d look over at you, and without saying a word you’d turn off the movie and we’d run down the hall to the bathroom–not because it was an emergency. Only because running got us there faster. And you’d usually win.

There was that one time you burnt the last bag of popcorn and felt so bad about it that you let me eat all the good ones, while you picked out the black pieces (and, if I recall, even ate a few.) It was then I knew I loved you.

It isn’t quite the same, but the Thursday night TV line up is a nice routine these days. It certainly isn’t the all-out girlsmovienight that is once was, but I don’t mind that we’ve extended the invitation to Mr. Braff.


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