This is what I improvised to wear to the office yesterday morning, three days after moving and Heaven only knows how many days before catching up the laundry: white (I actually had something white and non-smudged by contact with boxes and killer dust bunnies; huzzahs all around!) semi-dressy T-shirt, dark green slacks, dark brown socks, very dark blue clogs, black leather jacket, green earrings, and a pewter-grey bag under each eye. Firstborn, whom we all refer to [affectionately, for the most part] as the Fashion N@zi after her stint as an assistant manager for Casual Corner, would be appalled.
I’ll spare you a photo. You might very well be as appalled as my oldest child.
LittleBit thinks it’s funny that I have two and a half bookcases filled but have yet to unpack the dishes. This is because we *have* containers we can eat from, and we still have food from our friends’ visit on Sunday, and we have plastic utensils. We also have the drive-through option.
Food is covered, in the short term. I need to unpack the books so I will have empty boxes to take over to the old place for the last bits, and so that we will have space in the living room to put the furniture in its approximately final position, and so that if I wake up in the middle of the night and do not feel like knitting [it happens, maybe as often as I have the urge to wash windows, but it happens] I will have something to do with my brain until the Sandman returns.
After work last night, I came home and ate some of the Wonderful Meatloaf and put some and the last of the mashed potatoes [sniff!] into a container for lunch today, and then I went next door and packed four boxes and pulled down all the art from my bathroom. And then I drove to Knit Night and surprised everybody by showing up, reasonably awake and reasonably alert, at a time when I would normally be folding my tents and stealing home. We will blame that on the cherry coke that kept my nose out of my keyboard yesterday afternoon.
I am ready to sweep and mop and give the porcelain one last scrubbing in the loo. Tonight one of my friends is coming over, and we will see how much we can accomplish in my boudoir per se.
And I added maybe another inch to MS3 throughout the day. I am about ten rows into Chart F on Clue 4, for those of you who are keeping score. The Sisters of the Wool oohed and aahed over it last night. For me, the most meaningful compliments are those that come from my peers, those who have either done what I am doing or are contemplating it, and at any rate know what goes into it. Compliments from muggles are also nice, but a compliment from someone who has also threaded a littlebitty bead onto littlebitty yarn with an infinitesimally small crochet hook and lived to tell the tale? They are like the bread that is cast on the water and comes back an hundredfold.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!