Yesterday, I washed my car. Not only did I wash my car (here's the thing: I can't actually remember the last time I washed my car. And by can't actually remember, I mean that as far as I can tell, it's been more than two years. Possibly quite a lot more than two years.) but I went to one of those vacuum machine things and cleaned the whole damn thing out and vacuumed it. I can't get over it, which I grant you has a certain pathetic quality to it but here I am, driving around in my car (not at this exact moment in time; friends don't let friend drive while blogging) and it's clean and I can see out of all the windows. It's comparatively clean even though I did take the dogs to the river this morning and then drove their soaking muddy selves back home, sigh. And, as you can tell from the masterpiece on the right, there, I took pictures in the carwash. That has to reach some hitherto unrealized level of dorkdom in my life, right there.
Last night I watched the movie Dark City. It was really pretty good and nicely creepy and I liked it, so that was fun and Pebble & Theo & I sat there and enjoyed it while I worked on yet another hideous knitted hat that nobody will ever want. If you don't know this movie, it's a sort of sci fi type dark dark movie where it turns out that basically everyone is living in a horrific alien experiment - sort of like the Matrix except without Keanu Reeves and martial arts. There are still long leather coats, though, so all good, and also William Hurt, with whom I am somewhat in love, even more, frankly, than I am in love with Keanu, who I have not loved wholeheartedly since Bill & Ted. Then I came upstairs to go to sleep and as I sat on my bed I looked over at the poster of the Buddha which has been on my bedroom wall since time immemorial and freaked way the hell out because there was no Buddha there. The frame was there and it said Cheap Poster Frames something something in big letters and I thought, oh holy shit, my memories have been replaced and/or somebody crept in and stole my Buddha poster right out of its cheap poster frame which is pretty fucking weird no matter how you cut it and oh my god I guess this means I'm living in some kind of creepy noir sci fi film now: I always suspected as much.
After I had calmed down, however, I remembered that I live in a house inhabited by strange beings, in particular a strange being named Pebble who has recently become unduly fascinated by framed posters on the wall. I know this because she's been trying hard to get my other framed poster (which is one I got from Qoop, of this image and which looks, btw, amazing, so amazing that actually it's almost tacky because you can't tell that I made it and it looks kind of like I went to Ikea and bought a poster) off the wall. So what she apparently did was work hard all day to get the bottom part of the frame off - these are those super cheap poster frames that just have plastic strips all around holding them together - and then the poster, which was just on top of the old label in the cheap frame, slid gently down and behind the bookshelf which is, in fact, exactly where it was. Well. Either that or my memories have been replaced by aliens in long black coats.