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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!

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Plan B night

Had planned to go to the temple tonight after work, but my friend texted me at dark-thirty to say her beloved had had a night of insomnia, which wrecked her own sleep, so we've rescheduled.

What did I do instead? A few rounds of knitting on the chemo cap I am making for a coworker's sister. Remember the green cap I made for Beloved, with the braided hem? The moths (or something) have nibbled on it over the years, but it was mostly intact, so this morning I frogged it back to the lowest hole, rewound the yarn, did some judicious spit-splicing, and am merrily working my way back to the top.

But mostly I tidied the dining room, which had become my default sewing room over the last year or so. The ironing board and iron are tucked into my studio. The Ziploc bags of quilt units are clipped together on two skirt hangers and have joined the numerically sorted remnants inside the armoire. The pattern is tucked into an open shoebox in the hall, along with the pattern for my First Saturday quilt. The boxes of sewing and quilting tools are tidied, closed up, and stacked on a shelf in the studio. I have not yet put the sewing machine into its carrying case, but that is likely to happen tomorrow night. A large recycled-plastic shopping bag has been emptied of miscellaneous painting supplies and tossed on top of the stack in a corner of my bedroom. A box lid holding art paper and printer paper (inherited from my mother-in-love) has been emptied of its contents, which are now atop a different stack in the middle bedroom, and the lid is in the recycling bin for two weeks from now. There are still a few small, random piles, but another night or two like this and I could actually sit down and eat at the dining room table.

Boggles. The. Mind.

Part of me wants to go to the gym and walk in the water for half an hour, trailing my hands, which are very tired and a little sore. But my eyes are telling me that I should be asleep no more than eighteen minutes from now.

I still have not bought shampoo. (But I can make doll clothes.)

Thirteen minutes from now. Night, y'all.

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