Upstairs Downstairs

Upstairs it snowed all day. Bands of lake-effect squalls drifted slowly through, fat flakes reducing everything to simple, white shapes. Mid-afternoon we bundled up and went out to clean off the car and move it closer to the house so the plow service could clear the driveway when the storm had passed. The snow was fluffy and light, and the air was so cold that every crystalline capped column was starkly etched in each flocculent scoop of the shovel. In short order our work was done and we ready to venture forth on a snowy walk with the dogs.

Downstairs, the heat was working overtime; the year was 1984 and Wonder Woman flew in her invisible plane through fourth of July fireworks. I propped up my feet and reached into the bag of cheese corn on my lap, squinting to make out every familiar location in the movie that was filmed just a few miles from our house. WW1984 was slated to be released last summer, but COVID first pushed the premier back and then changed it to streaming. Like so many summer movies, it was as cheesy as the popcorn, and so it seemed a little out of place this time of year. Even so, it had been a minute since I'd seen anything even resembling a blockbuster, and so I forgave it for its lack of subtlety.