Every night, between the hours of 8 and 10, I’m reminded to measure my life in love.

Thanks to the community theater located directly below my apartment.

During the show, I sit quietly, without turning on the television or blasting Spotify, not to disturb their production of Rent. I figure, if I can hear them, they can certainly hear me. I even time my bathroom breaks not to coincide with the more solemn parts of the musical, like Angel’s death and Mimi’s near demise. It’s the least I can do to support the Arts.

While most sane people would most likely be over this situation, the play couldn’t have come at a better time in my life. Every night I get to escape for a few hours and pretend I live above a bohemian artist enclave in Alphabet City. I join them in their wild optimism for finding a cure for AIDS in our lifetime, and in their pursuit for working for love and not money. I forget everything I’m afraid of and remember everything that is good. That death is a certainty and that life is made up of a few minutes, so I should make the most of it, all the time.

That’s a pretty amazing affirmation to have every single night.

So, to show my appreciation, next month, I will pay my rent with one thousand sweet kisses.