I’ll be watching me. Love that song, even though it is kindof stalker-ish. OK, maybe more than kindof stalker-ish.
I don’t have time to get wordy. Heading out the door in a couple of minutes and very grateful to be well enough [I think, I hope] to go back to work without scaring the dickens out of my co-workers.
Got both sleeves done in my effort to reproduce Chutzpah’s sweater, and have the directions documented this time around. I hope to get the body worked up to the underarms throughout the day and at Knit Night. Which reminds me that I need to look up and see where it is being held tonight. I’ve coughed up enough brain cells that I don’t remember where I was supposed to be last week when I just drove straight home from work, instead (and spent the next day at home, coughing up a lung).
Lucky me, my planner says that two weeks ago we were at the coffeehouse. Logic tells me that that is where we will be tonight, and it’s not all that far from my friend’s house; she has offered their vintage stash of VHS to supplement my own and what I have borrowed from the new guy.
Speaking of whom, he called last night as promised (do like a man who keeps his word, even in the small things), and we talked for nearly 40 minutes. He got to hear my phasing-out-of-1-900 voice, which is about how I sound to myself this morning. I hope I don’t have to spend a lot of time on the phone today.
Wish me luck!
- 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!