Well, now I know why I woke up at 11:30 Sunday night, after having gone to bed with the chickens. I was sitting here, typing away, and there was a funny noise outside and the power went out. At least I wasn’t sleeping and therefore startled awake by the CPAP going off abruptly. Thank goodness for cell phones: I reset my alarm.
Correction: I reset the time on the clock. I reset the time for the alarm. But I forgot to push the button. Consequently, I woke at 6:14, washed up quickly, threw on something, and scooted out the door. I made it to the train station in time to park in the shade, all the way in the back, and have a leisurely stroll down the steps and up to the train.
LadyZen was on the train, woohoo! I had not seen her in at least a month. So good to catch up on one another’s lives.
I have joked for years about the light at the end of the tunnel, not always being the headlight of an oncoming train. Yesterday it was. Only there was no tunnel, just the back end of the southbound train obscuring the front end of a northbound train as I was crossing the tracks. My friend C says I scared two years out of her. I was just thankful that I’ve been working out for two and a half months, because my acceleration was pretty impressive, those last five feet!
Thankfully, I am not the sort who freezes in times of danger. I just kept moving forward. Sometimes inertia is on the side of the good guys. (I hope I’m one of the good guys, even though I’m not exactly a guy.) I may not have made it to the gym before work, but I definitely had an aerobic workout!
The rest of the day, thankfully, was considerably less scary. Lots of typing, a new case opened for one of the other attorneys whose secretary (and backup secretary, ahem) are both out of the office this week. I don’t have enough experience to be able to handle her entire docket, but I do know enough to be useful. And a new case opened for us, which is good, because we closed a long-time problem child.
Yes, I will be more watchful while crossing the tracks today. Instead of looking both ways, I’ll look both ways twice.
In other good news, I made significant progress on my swatching for the next doll sweater. I am working on the 5-aught needles at the moment, basically pushing gauge for all it’s worth until I get a fabric that is no longer fluid. The stockinette at this gauge is really impressive: I am guessing 12-13 sts per inch, and probably 20 rows if I had enough patience to work that many, though I haven’t confirmed it with my stitch gauge.
Itty-bitty, tee-ninetsy stitches, each identical to its neighbor, with just enough wiggle to them to confirm that yes, this was not made by machine. I am currently working a pattern of broken ribbing, like I used for 2BDH’s scarf Christmas before last, only this time it’s two stitches wide and three rows long. Looks really good on the 4-aughts but somewhat tightly-wound on the 5-aughts. Next I want to try a pattern of alternating diamonds in stockinette and reverse stockinette, three stitches wide tapering down to one, and five rows long.
But first I am going to the health club, because it has now been three days, and I had cranky dreams. (LittleBit was a baby, and I was not being patient with her because I wanted to go shopping, and she was not being cooperative. There is probably a metaphor in there, and it is probably not one that makes me look like Saint Ravelled.)
When I looked at my desk calendar yesterday, I realized that on the 30th, when I have jury duty, the secretary *I* back up [!!!] will be out on vacation. So I emailed the office manager, and she sent a tactful heads-up to that attorney. Maybe today I will have a few extra seconds to look at his calendar for that day, to see what reports, if any, will be due.
Fourthborn is having fun in Virginia with Middlest. I’m glad that somebody in the family will be with her for her birthday tomorrow.
Time to grab the gym bag and take care of this middle-aged body. I want a little time on the recumbent bike as well as in the water, but mostly I want to be in the water.
Secondborn, LittleBit comes by the not-changing-the-oil gene quite honestly. You do not want to know how long it’s been since Lorelai had hers changed. When I have the time, I do not have the money. When I have the money, I do not have the time. Heaven is being merciful and extending the life of that engine only because I am stretched six ways from Sunday. (And because I am not spending what I laughingly call my disposable income, on tattoos.) However, on Saturday morning time and cash will converge, and I will take care of that small detail.
The oil change. Not a tattoo.
I am heading out the door now. I promise to slow down a little, and to look both ways. I like it here with y’all.
- 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!