Even I can't knit all the time.
Today I decided to do some lawn work. (The back yard is horrifying. Just horrifying. If I owned this place instead of rented, I'd be cutting down trees and pouring cement. Or just lighting a match.) I should have known lawn work would spell disaster somehow or other, because it always does. This time it was worse than usual.
I got out my work boots. I hadn't worn them in ages, because this time last year I was four months pregnant and puking until I got nose bleeds, so I gave up on yard work and gardening and most everything else for the duration. So it's spring again, and I dig out the old boots, and there, on the soles, I find it:
Red Hawaiian dirt. (You'll have to take my word that the dirt's red, because as usual my camera's fucking up.)
I pouted for a good bit, thinking about how long it had been since I wore these boots, and how I'd bought them originally for a horticulture class while I was in school in Hawaii, and even helped do some landscaping on campus while wearing them.
Eventually I got a grip on myself and went to put them on, and found THIS in the toe of the left boot: a bag of Hawaiian sea salt that a friend of mine gathered for me off the beach.
Now I'm really depressed. I'm going to go order some freeze-dried poi.