A little knitterly humor to get your day going. The Attack of the Killer Sinuses continues apace. I polished off half a box of Puffs at work and another here at home. Something between three-fourths of a box to a box and a half, total. That is a lot of sneezing. [Just ask my coworkers.] I also polished off the remainder of the chicken broth in the quart I broke open last Friday and three cups of chamomile tea. It is probably a good thing that I forgot to transfer my lipsticks into the new bag when I left the house, because putting on lipstick yesterday would have been an exercise in futility.
So yes, I looked every bit as drab and miserable on the outside as I felt on the inside. I came straight home from work* and got in the tub with a hot washcloth on my face. No Knit Night for me, missy! *[I did make a slight detour to Panda Express for spring rolls and Chinese mustard.]
Feeling considerably better this morning, after dreams in which I was trundling a recycling bin (bright yellow) from one school in the neighborhood to another. I have no idea where that came from.
The knitting is going well. I like the yarn. I like the pattern. I like the needles. If everything in my life were going as well as my knitting is at the moment, and mostly it is, then my life would be perfect. And maybe I wouldn't appreciate all the parts that are going well. And that would be sad.
I’m going to head over to the couch and put another few rounds on my knitting before it’s time to gather up my stuff and hit the road. There may be frequent pauses to look up and enjoy the flowers (because I certainly can’t stop and smell them at the moment).
- 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!