Act I. I love Mondays. I used to love them because I worked Sundays and took off Mondays. I christened them “Domestic Mondays” because I typically bought groceries, ran errands, and baked some kind of treat. It was the best. I’d trade a weekday for my Sunday again. In my new job, I love Mondays for a different reason. Well, a few reasons: This American Life, Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me!, and grilled cheese night at Bodega. Happy hour is so much happier when you’re leaving the suburbs and highways to return to the city.

Instead of having the baked treat I used to make on Mondays, I get a brain treat while listening to the previous weekend’s This American Life and Wait…Wait. (Wow, that was nerdy.) In my job, there isn’t a lot of human interaction. Not to mention most of my coworkers are twice my age, so it’s a little awkward to initiate conversation with, “So… how’s your kid doing?” (Sidebar: Today I got to hear about my coworkers having “the talk” with their kids. Yikes.) So on Monday mornings I can’t wait to put on my headphones and hear Ira Glass welcome me to today’s program. Then later when I move on to Peter and Carl on Wait…Wait, I usually end up doing that shoulders-shaking, looks-like-you’re-hyperventilating-in your-cube-but-really-you’re-just-trying-not-to-laugh-out-loud thing, because we all agree it would be weird if I laughed out loud in my cube.

Act II. As you can see, I also love NPR. I battle with being lumped in to the “Did you hear that thing on NPR today?” crowd, but, I am that crowd. And it’s more than staying current on the news or latest indie band. I love to sit on my bed Saturday mornings with my bowl of cereal, listening to Weekend Edition and then Car Talk. There’s something safe about it, these voices that have been familiar for so long. It reminds me of Saturday mornings as a kid, sitting in the kitchen while my mom made breakfast and NPR played in the background. Or driving to soccer matches with my dad, whining the whole way about listening to talk radio. And maybe that’s the way the rest of my generation feels, and why we love NPR.

Act III. I wouldn’t say I love nostalgia. But I would say I’m nostalgic. Introversion and a contemplative nature seem to breed nostalgia, so it only makes sense I guess. And with that, it’s only fitting that I’m going to prom this weekend. That’s right, prom.

More on nostalgia later.

In the meantime, please watch this short film from the live show of This American Life.

And read this book.

And listen to this song.