This is the point in the story where, if you are a knitter, your heart skips a beat.
Turns out that my almost-new size 4 circulars, sensing my elation at nearing the end of my project, decided to shut that right down. Because, really, this project is jinxed. Yesterday, I spent half an hour of what should have been productive knitting time untangling a snarl of yarn barf, and now...now this:
|Et tu, Knitter's Pride?|
That's right, the cord separated from the needle. Coincidence? I think not. So, yeah, that project is in time out until it decides if it really wants to become an attractive summer shawlette or remain a shapeless ball of yarn. Sometimes, you've just got to show these projects who's the alpha dog, you know?
I think approximately 4 of my 100 or so readers cares about any of this. To the rest of you, my apologies.
But I haven't just been knitting. Here's the other new and exciting activity in my life:
|It's like a Magic Eraser for your face, I guess|
That's right, exfoliating. I just found out I'm supposed to be applying this thing to my face (Hildie at Hive and Nest told me); so I am using it every other day and waiting expectantly for my youthful complexion to return. Maybe I will even get to a point where I can take a selfie without being absolutely horrified at the result. That would be nice, right?
|Progress, of a sort...in this corner, anyway...|
Larry is downstairs making loud power tool sounds in the basement. Our handyman showed up this morning, praise the Lord, and helped him arrange the puzzle pieces of plywood onto the floor (on top of the insulation), so we're making some progress down there. I mean, everything is still a mess, but Larry tells me there's been progress, so I will have to believe him. We've gone too far to turn back now, that's for sure.
But first? It will get worse. "As soon as I get all this plywood down, I'm going to pull everything out of the laundry room," said my spouse formerly known as Beloved, "so I can insulate that entire front wall at once." His eyes shone with satisfaction at finally being able to accomplish this quixotic goal of his. I could tell what he was thinking: They said it couldn't be done.
I'm telling you, the man is insane.