A tale of three stockings.

The past two days at work have been amazing. I've looked up and said, "Lunchtime? Already?" and later, "How can it be 4:00 o'clock?" So that's going well.

I am cautiously optimistic about the compression socks I bought. I wore them to church on Sunday under my turquoise maxi skirt when I attended the stake conference broadcast. The right leg went on like buttah. The left leg was a matter of bend and grunt and willpower, but I got it on. And for the first ten to fifteen minutes I could feel two distinct pockets of crabbiness in my calf where the lymph was all knotted up. I wore the stockings almost all day, and when I took them off my right ankle looked almost normal, while my left ankle was about 50% reduced in bulk. I had also been able to stand and finish cutting the pieces for Middlest's blocks and get them sewn together, all without pain in my ankles, calves, knees, or back.

I ordered another three pairs, in different colors, after work last night. They should be here in about a week.

On Sunday night, after taking the stockings off I dutifully washed them and hung them to dry, thinking I'd be able to wear them to work yesterday. They were no longer soggy, but they were still distinctly damp, so I left them hanging and wore them to work today, under a pair of slacks.

This is how I learned that there was just enough friction between the socks and my slacks that my slacks rode up like jodhpurs and my stockings crept down my calves. I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until I was stuck in the express lane on my way to pick up Fourthborn for Knit Night, felt my calves just below my knees, and couldn't feel the top of the stockings under my slacks. They had slid down to half-mast, and my left leg was getting painful.

Scooped up Fourthborn, dashed to Cacique to see if I could pick up a second pair of socks to wear tomorrow while this pair dries, and they'd sold out. They did let me run back to a changing booth, pull down my slacks and pull up my socks and pull up my slacks again.

Third sock, you ask? I'm working on the heel flap for the current baby sock.

In other news, when we got into the Tardis after Knit Night, a weird noise came from under the hood. I know what tappets sound like just before a cylinder blows. It wasn't that. It was more like the sound you get when you use a clothespin to attach playing cards to the back frame of your bicycle so that they smack the spokes and your bike becomes a pretend Harley.

So I took Fourthborn home and drove to Firstborn's so 1BDH could take a look under the hood. He was still at ju-jitsu when I got there but arrived a few minutes later. We went out to the Tardis. I popped the hood and fired her up. Nothing, except maybe the suggestion of a leaf blowing out from under the hood. At his direction, I revved the engine a little. Still nothing. So I thanked him and came home, feeling much relieved

My only thought is that maybe Heaven wanted me off the road for half an hour. I'm just glad to be home and safe and not facing a mechanic's bill in the morning. I had Middlest work on my neck for a few minutes, and I'm about ready to call it a day.

I also invented a limerick today, but that's a story for later. Assuming I remember. Night, y'all. The buttermilk and ginger cookies are calling my name.