There is a tropical storm parked over my house.
Sekhmet, that fucker, is gnawing on my ankle as I type. I'd take a photo, but the camera is in the other room. She looks like a furry, demented python with whiskers.
The Goober has found her favorite book, "That's not my kitten", which I had hidden. (I need to do a better job of it, next time.) We have read it three times and she wants to read it a fourth, and to make that desire known, keeps dropping it on my computer keyboard.
Sekhmet is still biting my ankle. We have a theory in this house that all cats are insane because they have hair between their toes and their eyelids are furry. Think about it. Wouldn't you be insane if your eyelids were furry?
And the book just hit my keyboard again.
Remember the gusset-thingie in the green sweater? The one done with short-rows I was trying not to think about? Well. I got it about one-quarter done yesterday, and realized it was done wrong. (Short rows in pattern. Arg.) So I've gotta tear it out and start over. The good news is, when I get frustrated with the body, I mindlessly knit on the edging, and it's over half done:
I'm tying in those dark pink strings every fifty rows, so I don't have to go back and count from the beginning every time I turn around. When the edge is done, I'll use scissors and clip out the pink strings. Just ignore those baby feet poking into the photo.
So there's the goal list for the day: redo the short-row gusset thingie, and remain sane. I think I've got better odds on the gusset thingie.