Feeling more like the tortoise than the hare this morning. I put four more rows on the Clapotis en Soie yesterday and am still working increase rows. Every few days I haul out the digital scale and weigh my progress.
I put another inch or so on the January Mystery Socks yesterday. Slipped a marker into the last row I worked before firing up the needles today, and that marker slipped right back out while I wasn’t looking. But I finished the CD of the audiobook I’d paused when I went to bed last night.
Work went well. I polished the batch of vacation letters for one of my attorneys, typed a second supplemental discovery summary for another, and spent the rest of the day back in the scanning room, helping the receptionist to clear a backlog of fax confirmations.
This is why they pay me the big bucks!
I took the Noro Kureyon Sock with me, and the instructions for the entrelac socks, and my multi-pack of tiny DP’s. Didn’t get to them; maybe today.
And maybe not. I am feeling a little like a kid on Christmas morning, except that I know I will not be spending the day in my jammies. Time to run the tub, rustle up some breakfast, and figure out what I want to wear and if I want to throw my painting clothes into the trunk. Might be a good idea to check the weather forecast while the tub fills.
This just in: showers of paint chips, blizzards of bisque, flurries of bon mots. Film at 11.
- 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!