J’adore houndstooth. Always have. Most likely, always will. It’s just so crisp and tidy. And it’s all over the inside of the new Lane Bryant catalogue. Skirts. Tailored blouses. Flats. A clutch. A cape. And one really ugly printed-patternblocked-mixed-plaids dress. Am I forgetting something?
I am off work today, theoretically lounging about like the ladies who lunch, but in reality there is barely any time for knitting. I need to pick up gift cards for Fourthborn’s Fiancé’s birthday (yesterday, ahem; cash flow issues), Squishy and Beloved (Monday), and do a little grocery shopping. I think I will factor in a side trip to Lane Bryant to inspect fabric quality, the better to decide if one of those houndstooth goodies will follow me home next payday or the one after that.
Knitting a 358-stitch round goes much more slowly than knitting a 70-stitch round for a sleeve hem, or the 130 stitches where the sleeves will eventually join the body. As applied to knitting, the laws of physics tend to be somewhat stretchy, but this one is holding as firm as a cabled cast-on. I’m thinking that the sweater body will take a month or more to reach the armscyes, unless I decide to make the body shorter than the pattern as written.
I also have an almost overwhelming urge to move furniture around. Beloved is already off to the temple, and I’ve had a couple slices of bread and butter while trying to make up my mind about what I want for a real breakfast. Beloved’s kids have come over this week and taken almost everything they wanted from his mother’s stuff. LittleBit came over after class last night and took home several boxes of kitchen supplies. We will take more boxes up to Younger Twin’s house when we go for the family BBQ tomorrow. We are beginning to get our house back. The swathes of visible carpet are growing by the day.
I want to hang pictures in the guest bathroom. I want to tackle the area by my side of the bed, clear out that desk and make it mine. Maybe move the small bookcase in the hall out from there and atop the desk, the better to organize my own stuff. There is a desk lamp which is useless-to-me, but which would be handy over on Beloved’s side of the bed. We found a power strip in one of his mother’s boxes, and I would much rather have my CPAP plugged into that than into the extension cord which is currently serving the purpose. Time to grab one of the umpteen small notepads we inherited from his mother and make myself a honey-do list.
It’s almost 7:00. I’m burning daylight.