Dear AMC,

How do you know me so well?

On the way home, my car asked to be washed; drizzly, misty days of late had turned it into a Dalmatian on wheels. As there was still daylight, and not wanting to spend the money at the hand wash up the street, I arrived home, dutifully busted out the Meguiar’s, my fuzzy wash mitt, chamois and started the process. Time was ticking, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive a spotted car for one more day.

Washing a car with a shoulder in the midst of physical therapy isn’t my idea of fun, but some things need to be done. Eating an egg sandwich for dinner isn’t my idea of fun either, but a severe lack of culinary inspiration will drive me to a six-minute meal every time. For the record, however, it was delicious.

Sixteen Candles greeted me as I sank into the sofa. It ended. Up next? The Breakfast Club. Sensing a delightful night of movie viewing, I checked to see what was up next. Of course! Say Anything. Love.

Aside from writing and the occasional weeknight glass of wine, there’s not much that gets me amped during the week; I like quiet nights in. But tonight I am thankful for cast after cast of characters that have spoken to generations and will speak to many more. I am thankful they turned a relaxing night into one where scenes are anticipated, where lines are recited in my head before spoken on the screen and for the countless memories from years gone by that they brought back.

Tonight I am thankful for AMC’s lineup of classic 80s films. Much needed, much appreciated.