I just can't find anything much to say. My wit is swamped in a puddle of lung snot. And that's probably enough on that subject.
I finished another repeat of the Faux Russian Scarf. That makes eight of eleven. Ticking right along. Incidentally, the reason it's Faux Russian is, it uses the construction methods of Orenburg lace, but not the materials or motifs. If I think of it, I'll take a photo when it's blocking - that's when it's easiest to see the structure - and draw on it and make some comments. The way they put edges on Orenburg lace is totally unique and kind of cool. And more painless than some other methods.
After knitting, I dug in and found the floor of my office and cleaned up significantly. I gave myself two days for this job; this is day one and I'm over half done, so yay.
Then I warped my loom to celebrate. It's warped for a skinny scarf, with only thirty-two ends. This is the first time I've ever warped a loom (the husbeast calls it rigging, which is a sailing term, which just figures). It took me three and a half hours, not counting the half hour I spent the other day winding off the warp. I assume as I get better at it the job will go faster. If that is not true, please don't tell me. (The previous project on the loom was a victim of the carpet beetles and I had to cut it off and throw it out. I will say nothing further, other than 'grrrrr' and 'arson'. And, uh, 'fuck'.)
While I was warping, the Goob and the husbeast watched cartoons together.
See the book? I gave it to her yesterday (it's one of the hated 'that's not my...' series). This morning I found it in her bed, meaning at some point last night she got up, got it, and took it back to bed with her. As a bookish sort myself, this pleases me immensely.
Now if you'll excuse me, there's this freshly warped loom, calling my name.