Think Up Your Own Damn Title

This was supposed to be Saturday's post, but Larry hogged the computer all day yesterday trying to straighten out our finances. You see, I threw a teeny-tiny hissy fit in the morning and told him I wanted to leave town for more than 3 days and that I wasn't going to spend a week in a tent. And I didn't care if I already spent our vacation money on someone else's bumper, I need to escape in August just like everyone else does around here, dammit.

So, he picked up on my subtle intimations of discontent (probably at the point when I threatened to dissolve the kids' college funds) and spent the day combing through our finances looking for some "extra" money. While he was at it, he attempted to deal with the confusion of our main credit card being farmed out to some new company that we didn't want; but that involved switching all our automatic payments over to a different credit card, and that meant trying to remember approximately 16 gazillion different passwords and PINs in order to access all the different accounts.

I hate seeing a grown man cry like that.

So I decided to deal with a minor knitting crisis while I waited my turn at the computer. You see, Anna's flute camp had a performance Friday evening; and knitting is the only thing that keeps me from acting up like a 3-year-old at these things, as it is all I can do to sit still through any sort of performance (much less a high school one) without sedation. But as I settled in my seat in the auditorium and pulled out the sock I was planning to work on, I realized that 1 of the 4 double-pointed needles I needed was missing.

Folks, I felt as if I had just jumped out of a plane without a parachute. There I was, with nothing to do for 3 solid hours. I whiled away an hour of it retracing my steps and searching for my missing needle (size 0, bamboo - have you seen it?). That was fun, if unsuccessful. Then I spent the 2nd hour repeatedly taking Susie (who was behaving way better than I was) down to the water fountain and back up to our seats (that's what you get for feeding the kids high-sodium-content fast food before the performance). The 3rd hour, I slumped in my seat and mourned all that lost knitting time.

So today I had to rummage through all my knitting bags (and they are legion) to locate the 5th matching needle. As any knitter knows, this sort of exercise is rife with regrets and self-condemnation, as it requires facing up to innumerable unfinished projects and a level of disorganization that makes the inside of my refrigerator look good. I unearthed things I didn't even know I had: 2 baby hats that I finished for Afghans for Afghans and then forgot to send; a vest I knitted for Rachel and never completed the neck edging on; a pair of socks that only need the ends woven in; a top-down hat that I started last October; and a bunch of yarn that I was supposed to have made into a mistake-rib scarf months ago. There were also assorted needles of indeterminate sizes, many tape measures, crumpled printouts of patterns, an old bag of cough drops, a comb, and a petrified french fry.

So I did what any self-respecting knitter would do. I gave up and started a new project. I sat upstairs and knitted Susie to sleep, as it were; and when I came down, I found Larry sitting disconsolately in his chair, surrounded - nay, engulfed - by a year's worth of paperwork. "Everything's a mess," he said. "I'm a slob. I can't find anything."

What can I say? We're a match made in heaven.

Oh, and in case any of you thought I was exaggerating the dismal outlook for women in their forties the other day, think again. For those of you who are click-averse, that link is to an msnbc article that is titled

Men End Up Happier Than Women Later In Life

Just remember, you heard it here first. The article mentions that age 48 is when "men's overall happiness exceeds women's overall happiness." Now, that makes perfect sense to me. That's just the point in life when many men dump their menopausal ball-and-chains to take off with some strumpet half their age. Is it any wonder the guys' happiness exceeds ours at that point?

Of course, I'm not too worried about that happening to me, what with the deal Larry and I have worked out.