I spent the weekend knitting. And knitting, and knitting, and knitting. My sister-in-law’s birthday is today, and I wanted to give her a nice lace shawlette to wrap around her shoulders. It’s still nice, I just fucked up part of the pattern and knit it backwards. If I had the time to rip half the bloody thing out and re-knit it, I would. But alas, I’m going to Florida on Wednesday and I want to get this thing in the mail tomorrow, and um…only Allah is perfect. *sigh* Rick said something that he meant to be sweet this morning when I told him: “Well, that’s how you can tell it’s homemade.” And I, who can be utterly psychotic about my knitting when I want to be (I know, it’s hard to believe) said “But I don’t WANT it to look homemade.” And then he got really quiet and changed the subject.

And so tonight I will go home, weave in ends, wash it (it bled red all over my hands while I was knitting it, not a good sign), and block it. And tomorrow send it and the necklace I made for her. And then…then? I will only have to finish the socks I started for Lori for Christmas and I can knit for me. True vacation!

(While I was typing this, I realized that vacation is good for another reason. If I weren’t getting away? Someone in my office might die. I am that fed up with them. Happy vacation to ME!)

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