Possibly, it started this morning, when I checked my email, and Amazon was offering me a deal on my planning and executing my summer divorce. 30% off. Great. I wasn't planning a summer divorce. (Winter is so much more conducive to bitterness anyway). Why couldn't they offer me a discount on something that I might find useful? Like a book on how to solve all your knitting projects. Or how to make your dishes do themselves?
They were forecasting a 30% chance of rain this morning, as it started to rain. I love it when they tell you it's a possibility that it might rain, as it's raining. I love Environment Canada. Great folks. What's next? .3 milliseconds warning before the tornado touches my house? If that would take care of the dog piddle puddle in the bathroom from a mastiff who is displeased that her daddy isn't home?
I spent 20 minutes in a meeting, explaining with the supervisor, or I'm sorry, let me spell that correctly, the stuporvisor, that when the post it note slapped right on the front of the research says that this won't be mentioned in the briefing note, and explains why, it is, under *any* circumstances unreasonable to ask why this information isn't in the briefing note. Why? Cause it makes me wonder how you find your way home every night. Oh, your husband drove you? Good, cause you might make it back tomorrow. To further torture me.
I spent my time, thinking about the blogger baby shawl, for the mother, who is ahem, further ahead in this whole pregnancy thing than I thought she was. Which means that I have a shawl due in about 2 months, and it's a few hours of work. The thing is presently not behaving, and while I know the lace pattern was for socks, and I am knitting with something that is the equivalent of dental floss (but a lot more expensive) the pattern should still work. And it's not. And it looks profoundly stupid. And not just because it's small. Blocking will not help this.
I took my knitting, just now, to the
And I reach into the knitting bag, and I pull out blogger baby shawl (all 3 inches of it) and I realize that I only have one needle. And there is no way I am going to knit this thing on one needle. One Needle = crochet. Two Needles - Knitting. Which means walking back to the office, in the pissing rain. To get the shell I am knitting. You know, the one that I am in knitterly denial over. Of course I can get cotton to stretch 6 inches across my body. Yep, blocking will take care of this. (If you aren't a knitter, pretty much all you need to know is that I'm living in a fantasy world here, and I'm not sharing the drugs). But, to take the edge off, I am going to keep knitting. I am going to magically shrink or increase 6 inches. I am that powerful.
And someone, I'd like what's behind door number two. Door number one is not so great.
I think. Just Maybe. I. Am. Having. A. Moment.
Go do your grammar homework. One person got the predicate right. No one has the subject right.
And I and me, and lose and loose drive me crazy too. To and Too also drive me crazy. And don't get me started on impact as a verbal!