There are days (weeks) where all you (I) can do is sit and knit. The mind wants to focus (fixate) and it is better than the alternatives, so why not? So you (I) knit and the next thing you (I) know, it is dark outside, time to go to bed again.
Rinse. Repeat. Somehow do it all over again.
And find knitting tumbling from your hands. Inspired by the knitty professor, I picked up the long long long neglected sparkle motion socks. Cripes! JUNE! That’s when I finished the first one? Sadly that’s not my worst offense sockwise, but I digress. They’re all done! Done! And I’m underwhelmed. Oh well. They’ll soften up and I’ll be happy to wear them in the fall, right?
Speaking of fall:
I am not convinced. I think fall is mythical. It’s supposed to be 74 today (it was 93 monday and tuesday, you understand the source of my skepticism) and all I can think of is how I want to make a sweater to wear in Chicago.
Because I love fall. And I’m deathly afraid it’ll never come.
PS: Kiefer, I love you. But hire a damn chauffeur, would you? You’re better than Paris Hilton.
