The Finisher Strikes Again!

I like to celebrate when I finish things, because it is a rare occurrence. I’m more of a ‘starter and then forget all about it’-er. A ‘find it years later and put the finishing touches on it’-er. So when I actually start and finish things within a reasonable time period – I boast! LOUDLY!!

I finished the Wool Peddler’s Shawl…



It turned out nicely; the wool isn’t quite as soft as I’d like, but I suspect another bath or two will straighten it out.

I also finished a hat in the same wool and lace pattern. (Dead batteries + Pointless discussion with mate about whether or not we have more batteries and whether or not there WAS a box of them in the downstairs closet and where the heck they could have gotten to and whose fault this is, precisely = No pictures until I motivate myself to the store to buy more batteries, so that the box I just KNOW we do actually have will resurface with its tongue waggling impudently at me) (Sorry.) (Here’s the lace pattern, though…)



I also finished my bedroom, which was a tremendous feat of organizing skill and I am very, very proud of myself. For a few days there, walking through this bedroom required both a keen memory (to remember where the mines were placed) and the balance of a Cirque de Soleil performer.

There were actual needles, on the floor. Not knitting needles – needle-needles. You know, like, for sewing fabric? The kind normal people keep on high shelves inside boxes with locking lids? Yeah. Those. I had them on the floor of my bedroom in a pincushion.

**sigh**

Darwinism at work, people. That’s all I can say about that.

ANYWAY. I got it all cleaned up and the shelf moved in so I could pick the books up off the floor and put them, you know, on a bookshelf, picked the needles up off the floor and put them away in a latching box, and then I vacuumed!

It was a very exciting moment.

Then I started doing laundry and was so unmotivated about the whole thing that rather than hang up the clothesline outside for the wet delicate things, I plopped a drying rack in the middle of my bedroom floor and hung Unmentionables and lacy little girl dresses that can’t go in the dryer all over it.

Not to digress, but why, Oh Designers of Children’s Clothing?! Why would you EVER, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, design clothing that must be line dried?! The letters 5T and the words ‘line dry only’ (or ‘hand wash only’, for that matter) should never, ever appear on clothing labels! Seriously! (says the woman who hand-knit sweaters out of hand wash, lay flat to dry Merino for all four of her children last year) (never mind! Do as I say, not as I do!).

Anyway, that kinda ruins the ‘perfect, well-organized room’ effect, you know?

But under all the drying laundry, it’s a very clean, well-organized room.

And no. You don’t get to check back in two weeks. Let’s just take it as read that it will be in a state of utter Chaos and I will be unable to find so much as a pair of socks, let alone a set of #8 circular needles, OK?

OK. Glad we had this chat.

Carry on with your lives, people. I’m going try to dig up enough motivation to make dinner for the Denizens. They haven’t turned their noses up at my cooking in at least four hours now, and I’m worried about their lack of exercise.