I was beginning to think that the brioche stitch was something that Rorschach knitted up on a sleepless night to torment marginally OCD folks like me. I’ve read more than once that insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different outcome. And I was suddenly feeling not the sharpest cheddar on the block...
Brioche stitch: now appearing on your local cowl. Something like unto ribbing with tiny outriggers. Or flying buttresses. I had managed to crank out an inch of it by the time I got home last night, and it is looking quite plausible, and wow! is this yarn ever fantastic. You would never guess that the first half inch or so has been frogged three times.
I was a little tired after dinner; not as tired as after I’d spent Saturday moving furniture and books around, but gently weary. So I rummaged around on NPR [yes, fiscal conservatives can and do listen to NPR] until I found a show featuring the late Blossom Dearie. I’d heard of her, but never listened to her. I rather enjoyed her quirky voice, songs, phrasing. I’m more a fan of blues than jazz, but this was a nice change, and I put 14 rows on one of the heel flaps of the January Mystery Sock. I thought her tribute to John Lennon was charming.
I get to go play at the dentist’s this morning; this is the routine cleaning which was scheduled for that day we had the ice storm. So I am driving in today, which gives me a little more time to knit before I scoot out the door. It’s also trash/recycling day; those bags are waiting just inside the front door. And the check for the refunded term insurance premiums was in the mailbox when I got home last night. My bank is near my dentist’s office. I’ll kill two birds with one stone, keeping enough cash for dinner tonight and parking once I get downtown. The rest of it will cover two bills that would otherwise have come out of my paycheck on Friday, which will make the next couple of weeks just that much easier.
I won’t say that I have entirely squelched the part of me that says “Oh look, I have extra money, let’s go spend it.” But I have taught her some manners. One of the hoped-for blessings in moving to such a tiny home, is coming to pass: before I buy something, I have to know [more or less] where it will go, and what it will replace. It may take me a few days to install it in its new location, but I have to know that it will play nicely with everything else.
I am going to continue to browse that little antiques shop, because I am replacing small MDF bookcases with real furniture which is taller and sturdier. The cheapie bookcases that will survive a trip back to Arlington, will go to Fourthborn and Fiancé if they want them. The one that is tucked under the living room window, will get taken apart and added to my food storage shelving alongside the fridge in the kitchen.
Use it up, wear it out, make it do, do without; rinse and repeat.
- Four 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!