And it isn't oncoming traffic.
I am fucking thrilled to report that this is all that's left of the Purple Trainwreck:
About one bobbin's worth. I'm hoping to have it knocked out by the end of the week and then start on something not purple. (Two-ply lace weight I've tentatively named "Spice Cake", but we have to see what it looks like plied. It might be "Chai Tea" or possibly "Cinnamon Toast".) After that, I'm not sure what I'm spinning. Perhaps I will crawl off into a corner and knit two traditional Norwegian sweaters, considering I've got them 'due' at Christmas and I meant to have one knit by now.
In other news, I was the victim of a bad haircut at the end of last week. I had it colored at the same time (like the color), so I had to wait a while to let the color 'set' before I washed it and saw what the damage really was. It's bad. "A little shorter" somehow translated into the hairdresser going Edward Scissorhands on me and lopping off five-inch lengths of the top layer of my hair. Now I don't know about you, but 'a little shorter' doesn't equal five inches in my universe. I've been bitching about this for days over on Twitter, and there were demands for photos, so, well, here you go.
The only one who will fully appreciate the horror is Terby, who has seen me fairly regularly in real life and knows I usually wear it shoulder length and fairly sleek. NOT in the Billy Idol meets Rod Stewart chrysanthemum cut circa 1986. I've got too many cowlicks to be wearing it this short. One nap and it stands on end.
I'd cut it into a mohawk, but it'd just take that much longer to grow out.
And I'm not sure what another color, say pink, on top of the recent color job would do. But the cut is probably eighties enough.