Last Saturday (the one where it was approximately 1059857 degrees in the shade AKA too hot to be a person AND we didn’t have internet) (if it seems like I’m obsessed with the weather lately it’s because I am, THE HUMANITY, honestly) I was watching It (because it’s the only DVD we own) while folding the hot clothes that had just come out of the dryer (whilst softly sobbing at my lot in life) and I realized that we have the exact same sink as Beverly Marsh. You know. This one:

Source: Me. I took it on set. Definitely not Google Images.

If you can tear your eyes away from baby Seth Green, that’s mine and Beverly’s BFF sink. (My heart burns there too, gurrl.) Except that mine is covered in hair instead of blood. Usually.

Our last apartment’s shower had what I lovingly referred to as the “Scary ‘It’ Drain.” Before that, the foyer of the building I lived in reminded me of the scene in the movie where Richie goes into the school basement to get a mop and Mr. Marsh is DRUNK AS A SKUNK and then a werewolf comes. I’ve sussed out similarities to It scenes in every place I’ve lived since I saw most of the movie from my hiding place next to our couch while I was supposed to be napping. I also still have nightmares starring Tim Curry, which are terrifying but also impressive re: the caliber of Dream Tim Curry’s performances.

It’s so cute how our Reptar brains are sometimes like, “GAH SABER-TOOTHED TIGER ['Or scary clown,' I later edit in because I realize that I made zero connection between Pennywise and the tiger in my head or in this blog]” even though we keep telling them there aren’t any of those left. I keep forgetting to tell mine, actually, which maybe is why it seems to think that there’s one crouching behind everybody who says “hi” weird. Or that there’s one hiding in the middle of all those people over there, and as soon as I go over and stand with them it’s going to knock me over and poke me in the eye with its tooth. Or that one saber-toothed tiger that follows me around all the time, like, no big deal, everyone, this tiger just follows me around all the time, I’m fine though, this is fine. Everything’s fine. Except that it might bite my legs off at any moment and there’s no way to tell when it’s going to happen and there’s nothing I’ll be able to do about it anyway, so. Thanks! Thanks for asking! Her name's Maude! Anyway, by “it’s so cute” I mean cute as in how babies are cute, by which I mean exhausting and I get a headache after a while.

Here's what my brain did this week:

My days have been too long and too quiet, is maybe why. It's Friday now, I'm leaving work in twenty minutes and I'm going to eat my body weight in sushi and wash it all down with beers and by the time Monday rolls around I will have had a mental refresh (I'm saying that in my head like RE!fresh) and I'll have that tiger on a daisy chain like the lady in the cards.